Suicidal John?
by JammyJohn
Summary: John's blog has left Sherlock in a bit of a muddle- he can't seem to figure out if John's really gone suicidal without him. Molly's loyalties are tested when Moriarty starts leaving notes around the morgue, and Sherlock ends up getting punched, by a few people.. This story will never be labelled as 'complete' although to some it will be , let your imagination continue it for you.
1. The blogger

**Hey there, **

**This is my first story on here so it's bound to not be as good as the rest of you. I don't own any of the Sherlock characters in this story, although I really wish I could… Please review with feedback from a critical point of view.**

**If you have any ideas for my story that could help move it along a bit then please, do tell me.**

**This chapter is just John's blog, so it's a bit short- I'll try to do longer ones next time. **

**Enjoy :)**

**Chapter 1**

_From the personal thoughts and opinions of Doctor John Watson…_

_I guess I can't believe he's really gone. I woke up at 2am, just to check he was alright. I thought it was odd since I normally wake up to the graceful, elegant concerto that the brilliant man was playing. But there was nothing. A cold, dark silence was all I got when I called his name. A slight echo bounced off the four walls that were enclosing me in Hell...'Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock.' No reply. I flicked the switch that so often he had told me not to touch. He liked to play in the dark, it gave him a haunting feeling, and I could feel the emotion flooding through me as he played… It was beautiful.  
I winced when I thought of all the times I told him to 'Shut the HELL up!" I closed my eyes, bad idea. As soon as my eyelids flickered to a close images of that man who just escaped my life shone bright in the darkness. A slideshow ran through my mind of us after every case, I would be overjoyed to be working with such an amazing man, but of course I wouldn't show it, however he always looked like he had better stuff to do, other cases to solve. Before I could force my eyes open a little clip played, making my brain ache with hurt and anger, it was a clip of his fall. His legs flailed and his arms made a circling motion, as if they were trying to make him fly, yet he still looked enchanting. This was the fall he was owed._

_Of course that man has come and gone and even though every day I go through all options possible to prove he's still alive, nothing fits. He must be dead. The night after he died, Molly took me out to dinner (nothing romantic, we went as friends…mourners). After getting past the initial shock, I babbled on to her about all the possibilities I could imagine. After hours of her saying it can't be possible or even likely at all my ideas, she took me to St. Barts. I had a feeling I knew what was coming and I had no problem with it. I needed to see him, to say goodbye. We got to the room where Sherlock laid and before she could uncover the body, I rushed out as soon as I saw the thick wavy hair that stuck out from underneath the sheet. I heard her calling my name as I ran to the exit, but I didn't turn around, I couldn't. _

_That brings me to today, why I'm writing this. This talented man was my best friend, and through all our up and downs, I still loved him. No-one can really understand the relationship I had with that man- he turned my life upside down and the spun it around again and again. I know most of you think he's a fraud and I know whatever I say won't change your minds but I know what I've seen and he is NOT a fake. It's a wonder how people manage to change their loyalties when the media are to do with it. The press always turn._

_That's not what I want to talk about… I want to talk about me. I'm not going to be the same man that I was when I was with him and I know I won't be able to go back to who I was before I met him- it's not possible to even consider the thought. This will be the last time I write in this blog because unless Sherlock magically comes back to life again my life is not worth writing about; it's not even worth living. I only started writing because I was told to by my therapist- and what a great idea that was- but she wanted me to write about what happens in my life and I could only do that when there was excitement and now? Well now there's none. When I said 'nothing ever happens to me' at the start, I was wrong, very wrong. But Sherlock's gone, so the words fit in place- nothing will ever happen to me again._

_So, goodbye and thank you for reading my personal thoughts and opinions, you have been such a great audience, especially you Harry._

-J.W

_P.S Keep going all of you- Harry- don't start drinking again and Mike, thank you so much for introducing me to Sherlock Holmes. _

**Like I said above- sorry for the shortness of the chapter.**

**Please review :)**


	2. Testing theories

**Well, this one is definitely longer but I don't know if I particularly like this chapter- I find it quite hard to write as Sherlock- he's just so stubborn.**

**Please review :)**

**Chapter 2**

"Molly? Molly come here for a moment!"

"Uh, yes, I'm coming, hang on." Molly replied, glancing through the door to see the Consulting Detective sat on the hard, wooden chair staring at the buzzing screen in front of him.

"Molly, you don't need to refresh your make-up every time I need to speak with you, I just wanted to ask your opinion of something." That puzzled Molly, 'her opinion?' she thought. Why on earth would he need anyone's opinion? Especially hers…

"Y-yes okay Sherlock, I'm coming." She quickly glanced at her reflection before walking over to this marvel of a man.

"Have you read John's blog lately?" He asked, not paying attention to her efforts to look good.

"Yes, of course I have. I found it quite-"

"I didn't ask it how you found it." Sherlock interrupted, "I know how you found it, it was probably cute or sad or adorable. It's quite the contrary actually… it's odd."

"W-what do you mean?" Molly squeaked. She was use to being downgraded by Sherlock so she didn't comment on his snide remark.

"I mean, oh just look at this!" Frustrated as he was, he grabbed Molly's hands and forced her onto the seat beside him. He jabbed his finger at the screen, pointing out a particular line in his best friend's blog… '_My life is not worth writing about; it's not even worth living.'_

"What about it?" Molly enquired, not realising how flustered Sherlock was getting at her apparent idiocy.

"Molly?" He took in sharp breath in and composed himself, "Read. Between. The lines." Molly peered closer to the screen and tried to see through Sherlock's eyes. Suddenly it came to her…

"Oh Sherlock, no! I'm sure he d-didn't mean it like that…"

"Then how did he mean it?" Sherlock snapped back at her, leaving a bewildered expression stuck on Molly's face. She quickly snapped out of it, wondering why she was so startled by his mood with her, after all, he was like that all the time with her around.

"You have known John for as long as I have Sherlock and you know as well as I do that he wouldn't be so stupid as to commit suicide! What's worse is that you would be to blame if he was seriously thinking about it! Why couldn't you let him in on your little secret Sherlock? You are killing him by being 'dead' and you aren't doing anything about it. I know John had to believe you were dead at first but really, if you look at it properly then once the snipers or whatever they were packed away, you could have told him! Why didn't you Sherlock, are you that selfish?" Molly glared at him for a few seconds before clapping her hound across her mouth realising what she had just said to the man in front of her. "I'm so sorry Sherlock, I-I didn't mean that, I'm just tired from yesterday, you know?" She hoped he believed her, she regretted snapping at Sherlock, but deep inside she knew she needed to get it out of her system. Despite her true feelings, she didn't want Sherlock to believe what he heard from the petite girl slouching against the wall looking like a coward.

"Molly-"

"No Sherlock, don't talk, I'm so sorry, I-I have to go." She interrupted him and stumbled into her room, slamming the door behind her.

Seconds later Sherlock heard soft weeping coming from Molly's room. It was muffled so Sherlock immediately knew she was crying into her pillow again. She often did this when Sherlock deduced things about her, he hadn't understood why until he researched her confusing ways on the internet. She was somehow relating to a teenage girl suffering from a severe break-up of some sort- but no, this can't be the case… Molly and Sherlock weren't going out. It must be something else, something different; he knew he had missed something. He listened peacefully to his friend's soft noises for a few minutes before deciding to return to figuring out John. He was thinking over Molly's point some more- would John really consider suicide for him? He knew he was brilliant but he had been so cruel to John at times, and he was a living version of Hell to live with. He heard a cry of pain from Molly followed by a loud sob- and then silence. He was confused, did he cause her pain? He wasn't sure of what he had done and that really annoyed him. Sighing slightly he got out of the chair, pulling his eyes away from the blog, and crept over to Molly's bedroom door. He hesitated, looking around the room- it was messy, much messier than it had been when he'd first started to live with Molly. He remembered Molly frequently picking up the things he'd dropped, sighing as she bent down, she must be extraordinarily patient as she never once accused him of being a slob or told him to pick up after himself. He elevated his hand in front of the door, hovering it above the door knob for a few seconds, 'should he disturb her?' he thought. He quickly deleted the thought from his memory and knocked once, twice, three times- no answer. Deciding to leave Molly alone, he walked into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. He didn't like doing such a task; he normally had people to do it for him. Grunting, he walked over to Molly's door and called through the key hole that hadn't been used since she arrived in the flat.

"Tea Molly?" He asked. He heard a small gasp of shock and anger.

"Sherlock, for once in your life, make yourself your own cup of tea. I'm not in the mood." She sounded harsh to him, and he was completely puzzled by it. All he had done was offered her tea, it must be so frustrating having a normal mind, he thought.

"I am. I was just asking if you wanted some as well."

"You what?" came the surprised reply. Before Sherlock had time to answer, the door opened a crack and he saw the sparkling glint of Molly's eyes. "Sherlock, did you just offer to make me tea?" She asked. Sherlock studied her eyes; they were still wet with the earlier flood of tears. They were red and sore where she had been rubbing them and there were patterns between her eyes where she had collapsed against the pillow- he had never seen her so distraught.

He sighed, wasn't that obvious enough? "Yes, I did. So do you?" He repeated, getting a bit impatient.

"Well, I suppose I can't refuse an offer from the great Sherlock Holmes." She looked disbelieving- had he really surprised her so much by offering her something? Interesting.  
He walked back toward the kettle and poured the steaming water into two mugs. He knew her mug of by heart- it had 'Molly' written in pink curly writing right in the centre and surrounding it were pictures of her cat, Toby. Sherlock still hadn't got use to the fact he was living with a cat, but at least it was someone to talk to who wouldn't interrupt him, well, except for the occasional 'meows' when Molly was out and he rejected the idea of feeding him.

Molly watched on carefully as Sherlock stirred the milk into the tea perfectly, it looked so exquisite when he was making it. It made her wonder why he hadn't before- if he was so good at it. Sherlock felt her eyes on him and glanced up for a second, making her turn bright red and turn away from him.

"Here you go." He muttered, slipping the mug from his hands to her.

"Thanks," she paused, "why are you being so…helpful?"

"Am I not normally helpful? Am I not the one who solves all Lestrade's cases? You'd think my work would at least be noted…"

"No, I didn't mean that. I meant, why are you being nice to me Sherlock?"

"You were crying. I have been reliably informed when a lady is crying, she normally delves into a hot beverage and as you were refusing to come out of your room, I decided I would have to make one for you if I wanted you to do things for me." He thought this much was obvious, especially to her. There was a long silence and Molly began to smile, she found these turn of event extremely amusing. She tried to hide it from Sherlock, but of course- he sees and knows everything.

"Feeling better then?" He asked, knowing her answer by the stretch of her smile and the light that was glowing in her eyes.

"Yes, a lot better thank you." So predictable… "About before, I'm sorry I snapped at you like that, I-I don't know what came over me." Suddenly, like a brick, it hit him.

"Brilliant! You are a brilliant person Molly!" He looked at Molly excitedly, almost jumping on the spot. He couldn't believe he had missed it.

"W-what's the matter Sherlock?" He laughed; she looked concerned about his change in behaviour.

"Molly, when you got so angry with me before-"

"I'm so sorry about that." Molly interrupted.

"-Just listen to me Molly." He took a deep breath in. "Molly, when you got so angry with me there was something I couldn't figure out and now it's dawned on me Molly! You had perfect speech, you didn't stammer, you didn't stutter and you didn't even look away- you kept eye contact all the way through!"

"Um, okay?"

"You don't see it do you? Something about that argument made you confident, you were so strong." He didn't know what this was leading to but he was astounded. Maybe when she got angry she managed to stand up for herself. He decided to put his theory to the test…

"Molly, you are an arrogant, selfish girl and your flat stinks of cat!" He lied, putting a stone cold expression on his face, well, he thought, the flat does stink of cat... He stared at her until she broke away from his gaze. She looked shocked and hurt.

"Sherlock, I-I can't believe you w-would say that! After a-all the things I've d-done for you!" She turned on her heel, tears streaming down her face and stormed off towards her bedroom again.

"No Molly, I didn't mean it like that! I was testing a theory…" but before Sherlock could protest the door slammed shut, dismantling a picture of her cat from the nail in the wall. Sherlock stared at the door for a moment but soon decided to retreat back to his work desk- but not before putting the picture back in its rightful position.

**I don't like the ending, it's just not Sherlock enough and I think it's just a bit pathetic. **

**I know most of you don't like Molly stuttering, but it really helps portray her character around Sherlock, but I'm still really sorry about it.**

**Thanks for reading anyway! :)**

**Please review :) **


	3. The Great Sherlock Holmes

**Hello again, **

**Sorry it took so long to upload, I've been busy lately and I needed to catch up on the homework that I'd put aside to write. I noticed I only got two reviews for chapter 1 and none for chapter 2, and those were from my friends who apparently won't criticise me (not that I don't love your comments- keep them coming ;) ) But, can I ask for more of you to review, after all, I don't know how to improve if you don't tell me… (Sorry if that sounds really obnoxious.) **

**Thank you for reading,**

**Enjoy :) **

**Chapter 3**

'John, oh John, why do you have to be so difficult?' Sherlock was still wondering about John's words. Molly was right; John would never have considered the concept of suicide before Sherlock had 'died'. Sherlock felt completely at fault- he couldn't lose John, anyone but John (well except from maybe Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Molly and Mycroft. Actually no, scrap the Mycroft). John had saved his life when he had only known Sherlock for about 48 hours, not many people would contemplate doing such a thing. Sherlock had known from that moment that John would be the closest thing he had in life- however ignorant he was.

It was hard to deduce things from a blog, there's nothing to go on except from words in black and white, he decided to play his violin instead- it would help him think at a better standard. He looked around the room, throwing his head to and thro… Of course! His violin was at 221B Baker Street, with John. Exasperated, he started pacing around the kitchen, his footsteps echoing against the floorboards.

"Sherlock, will you please stop pacing? I'm trying to sleep!" Molly's voice cracked as she spoke, he could tell she was trying to be confident with him.

Molly, ah yes, he still had to deal with Molly…  
"Sorry." He muttered quietly. He walked over to the wooden door and pressed his ear against it. He listened to her breathing evening out until he was certain she had fallen asleep. He turned the door handle to his right and opened the door a crack, letting a ray of light into her room. Uncomfortably, Sherlock shifted his weight to make sure the floorboards creaking wouldn't wake Molly up. He looked over to the bed, his eyes taking in the picturesque image in front of him, Molly was curled up in her bed, face against the pale pink pillow- hiding the tears- with Toby at the end of her bed, snoring away. The cat reminded Sherlock of John when it snored like that; it was soft- like a baby's (not that babies snore) and comforting. He took in a deep breath when he saw the figure under the sheets moving, it was so not like Molly's movements. Molly was nervous and jittery when she was around Sherlock but no she was so peaceful and relaxed, he wondered why he hadn't seen this site before, he tip-toed over to the stool where Molly applied her make-up and sat down with a thump.

Molly sat up, eyes still closed but startled at the sudden noise, "Sherlock?" He winced at his name being called but just as he was about to spout apologies and excuses at her he realised she was already asleep again, she hadn't realised he was actually there. Interesting, Sherlock thought, Molly was dreaming about me… Did that mean he was forgiven? Probably. Molly didn't stay mad at him long enough for him to say sorry. Without another glance he strode out of the room and made more tea… Boy was he good at making tea.

The next morning Molly awoke to find Sherlock standing by her bedside with a cup of tea in his hand. He was looking at her desk, all the scribbles, diary entries and drawings that had helped Molly to calm down; he seemed to be lost in his own world. She rubbed her eyes, getting rid of any eye dust that might be disturbing her vision.

"Sherlock? Is that you?"

"That was hardly an impressive deduction. Of course it's me, have you not memorised my distinctive figures yet?" He sounded bored with her already, which was hardly shocking.

"Uh Sherlock? Why are you, you know, in here?" Molly stammered, ignoring his remark.

"Tea Molly?" He said, copying her as he ignored her question.

"Y-yes, okay." Molly was uncertain, was he trying to make up for last night? He knew he would probably find it hard to say sorry more than twice in the same week, but then again, this man was full of surprises.

"Get up then, hurry, the water's getting cold."

Molly groaned; she knew it was too good to be true, why couldn't she be smart enough to figure out that the tea in his hand wasn't for her? After all, it wasn't her mug! She pushed him away and rolled back over, closing her eyes and trying to lull herself to go back to sleep.

5 minutes later she could still feel Sherlock's presence in her bedroom, and she couldn't sleep whilst it was there. Sighing, she heaved herself up and got out of bed, standing directly in front of Sherlock.

"Thanks," was all she said as she grasped hold of the mug and walked into the kitchen. Sherlock gaped after her for a few seconds before shutting his mouth and glaring. Now that, he thought, was unexpected.

He took one last look around the room, deducing all he could about his colleague and then walked out.

Molly was in the kitchen, making herself a sandwich for her lunch, she was spreading the jam on the bread so carefully that it was almost mesmerising. Almost.

"Sherlock you've got to eat today, it's not good for you to go without food. Not even the great Sherlock Holmes can get out of eating."

"Why do you keep saying that?" He asked.

"Because as a doctor, I know that you have to eat, and it's getting quite worryi…"

"No, I meant why do you keep calling me the 'Great Sherlock Holmes'?" He interrupted, he did not care for a lecture on his eating habits, and it bored him every time.

"Deduce," came the soft reply. He rolled his eyes; of course, every time someone had an answer that he wanted they wouldn't give it, what a stubborn bunch of humans they all were.


	4. The Last Dinner

**Well, I got 1 more review, which I suppose is a start for the story…**

**Anyway, thanks for the review, it was appreciated and sorry it's taken so long for me to upload the chapter, I haven't had enough time to do all this, but I'm proposing to (from next week) upload it every Thursday. Well, I'll try to :) **

**Have fun reading, please review.**

**Chapter 4**

"Molly?" A muted knock came from the windows opposite her. Molly jumped from the sound of John's comforting voice and looked up too fast, causing a sharp pain to form in the back of her neck. She winced and looked at John who was slightly smirking, probably trying to hold in his laughter again- he always did that and the response from Molly was constantly the same. Still, rubbing the back of her neck, she walked over to the door, swaying a little bit from the head rush John had already given her.

"Hello John, body parts?" Molly gestured to the drawers. She saw him twitch the sides of his mouth downward into a miniature frown that he thought Molly wouldn't detect. "John? What's wrong?" The sweet humming of her voice soothed him a little bit and he instantly felt guilty about what he was about to say to the charming young lady who was being so kind to him, even though she had every right to break down.

"Well, I was going to…" He thought over his next words for a few moments before changing his plan completely.

"John?" She was pushing him for an answer.

He hesitated, but then spoke up brightly, "Come to dinner with me Molly? It has been a really long time since we really talked properly, you know, after he died…um, anyway, I wondered if you would like to come?" He met her eyes, questioning her with such intensity that it made her look away.

"Like as a date?" She asked, quite puzzled by the concept of John and her being…together. Unexpectedly, John burst out into streams of laughter and it wasn't long before he was clutching his chest and wheezing like a fool. Molly enjoyed this side of John but it caught her by surprise since he was normally so miserable without Sherlock around.

Unsure of what to do, she asked calmly, "John? What's so funny?" All she got as a response was more laughter; annoyingly enough he was obviously enjoying her confusion.

"MOLLY! YOU, YOU MY FRIEND ARE THE FUNNIEST PERSON I HAVE EVER MET!" He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself before continuing, "I was only asking as friends Molly, as gorgeous as you are, I had no intention of a date!" He started laughing uncontrollably again while Molly looked on- embarrassed at her mistake.

"Oh John, sorry, I-I was just surprised you know? John? John seriously it's not that funny." Despite her efforts, John still carried on hysterically. Frustrated, Molly walked back into the room where dead people where being investigated and ignored John's muffled laughter from the extensive glass windows.

"Molly, come back!" He paused, trying to regain his breath, "you never answered my question! So will you come?"

Molly wasn't fooled; she knew how much he was trying not to laugh and proved it by staring at him for 7 seconds before he started gasping for breath again. She was not impressed so returned his pleads with a sharp glare.

"Ah come on Molly, I was only kidding with you! I'm really sorry." John's pleads carried on for another few minutes and it was getting harder and harder for Molly to ignore him. She looked around, desperately, for something to focus on. All these bodies were boring compared to the cases she'd helped Sherlock with so they did absolutely nothing to keep her from listening to John.

"Molly, please?" He begged, "I'll pay for everything!" She smiled at that, knowing that what she was thinking was absolutely cunning, but she hadn't seen John like this since before Sherlock died, so she broke her gaze away from the dead bodies lying still in front of her, looked up and John, grinned and walked towards his slacking body.

"This is great food John, how about we get some more salad, and wine, we should definitely get more wine!" Molly was thoroughly enjoying the night own with John Watson, especially since he was buying for her- which she was sure he was starting to regret saying.

"Do you really have to; I can't take care of a drunk Molly! Who knows what could happen?" She blushed and started giggling, "well," he sighed, "it seems you're already half way there." Her giggle was like a tinkling fairy in his ear, he didn't want it to stop, but soon enough Molly had knocked over the glass of wine and the waiter, dressed smartly in black and crimson, strode over and asked John to escort the girl out of the restaurant. Well, he thought, at least I don't have to pay for anymore luxuries.

He drove Molly back to 221B Baker Street as he didn't know where she lived and settled her down on the sofa that Sherlock used to accommodate so often. He watched intently as Molly fitted herself into the shape of the sofa perfectly, she made little snoring sounds that were too cute to be snores- they were too soft and too sweet.

At 23:00 Molly's phone beeped- 1 new message. John couldn't sleep that night so he heard the beeping. He ignored it until another one came 2 minutes later, who would be texting Molly Hooper at this time of night? He walked over to Molly and sat beside her, he didn't want the phone to disturb her so he looked around where she lay to turn it off. It beeped again. In her jacket, he thought, how was he meant to get there? He placed a hand on Molly's hip and gently turned her over, she was pretty resistant to his touch but eventually he slipped the phone out her front pocket. It kept slipping from under his hands when he tried to figure out how to turn it off but eventually he managed, not realising how life-changing it could be if he had read those texts.

Molly woke up at around 6 am to find John sitting up against the sofa, his head knocked against the side of her legs. Funny man, she thought. She picked up her phone by the desk and turned it back on finding 8 texts waiting for her.

_23:36  
you're late. I happened to be hungry today.  
-S.H_

23:38  
Where are you? You're the one who told me to eat! Hypocrite.  
-S.H

_23:47  
Molly if you don't answer me then I will come after you!  
-S.H_

_23:50  
Actually, I have more important things to do. Still, hurry back.  
-S.H_

_00:12  
Molly, what do I do with that insistent beeping that is coming from your cooker?  
-S.H_

_00:14  
I think something's burning. What's taking you so long?  
-S.H _

_00:17  
you'll be glad to know that I just saved your cat and your flat from burning down. Thanks for helping me.  
-S.H_

_00:24  
Molly? Where are you? Answer me! I don't want to do anything unnecessary for a lost cause…  
-S.H_

Molly frantically picked up all her things (not that she had many) and rushed out the door- what the hell had Sherlock done to nearly burn down her flat? She dialled Sherlock's number anxiously and waited for him to bother picking up. She wasn't surprised when it went to voicemail so left a worried message after the 3 beeps.

"Hi, it's Molly… well; I suppose you already presumed that much. I went to dinner with John last night and I was planning to come back but I got too drunk and he took me back his, I mean, your apartment. We didn't do anything, in case, well, you know… Anyway, I fell asleep so I didn't get your 8 messages until about 5 minutes ago, but if you don't mind me asking… What did you do to nearly set the flat on fire?"

She hung up and relaxed her shoulders; she walked past a Sainsbury's store and gasped at the state of her hair. It was matted, tangled and knotted but she had no time to sort it out, she had to get back to check on everything and feed Toby as she knew that Sherlock wouldn't have done it. She scraped it back into a tight ponytail and stuck her bony arm out for a cab. The first few didn't stop for her but finally one pulled over, she told him where she needed to go and slipped into the side seat. She regularly checked her phone for any new messages from Sherlock, but expected no reply and that was exactly what she got. She looked out of the window impatiently seeing mothers rushing to get last minute shopping and business men calling for cabs anywhere they could, not wanting to be late for work. It was a beautiful time of year for Molly, she adored the fresh smell of leaves and the flawless blue skies, even in the streets of London it was astounding how perfect nature was.

Sherlock listened to Molly's frantic voice stammering on his answer phone and although she sounded like she had a lot to say, one particular thing stuck in his mind…'_dinner with John.'  
_So John was happy enough in life to go out to dinner with a pathologist he hardly talked to in front of Sherlock, he must be fine. He was absolutely fine… Sherlock found himself quickly irritated that John was cheerful enough to go out and socialise again- it had only been a few months since he 'died' and yet he got Molly drunk! Was there something going on between them that he had failed to pick on? No, he laughed at the thought, he didn't miss things like that, and plus, he knew Molly was completely obsessed with him to a near teenage celebrity crush standard, and with her knowing that he was alive she wouldn't just date John. He heard a scattering of footsteps coming up the stairs and turned back to Molly's computer, researching different names and tracking different people. The key turned in the door and a slender figure bustled in wearing the clothes she had worn the day before and her hair pulled back into a rushed ponytail. As soon as she saw him slouching in the desk chair facing the other way, she ran past into the shower.

"Already saw you Molly…" Sherlock called before she jammed the door shut.

"People give you another chance to make a first impression all the time, just let me have one!" She groaned, turning the shower on full blast.

Sherlock smirked, he never got a second impression, people just pretended to like him so he didn't deduce stuff about their countless affairs, debts and other normal, dull, common and predictable activities- of course, he deduce them all anyway. He heard Molly swear in the shower, it didn't take him long to figure out that she'd probably just found the experiment he'd conducted with her body shampoo this morning.

"Language Molly…" He teased, not feeling the slightest bit guilty of his 'mishap'.

"Seriously Sherlock, you can't just use my stuff when you get bored!" She sounded pissed at him, she'd obviously had a rough day yesterday, he thought.

"You were out of jam- I was trying to make some." He thought this would explain everything, but of course, Molly was way too annoyed for simple explanations.

"JAM? You are NEVER hungry and you want JAM? Do you even live on Earth Sherlock? And what you have made in this bottle isn't jam- it's mouldy and sloppy!"

"Well, I tried to cook but the cooker started playing up and making funny noises…"

She muttered a very rude word, "Sherlock that means it's done!"

"Well Toby didn't think so." He retorted.

"Toby is a CAT!"

"And yet he still has more potential than Anderson ever will." He mumbled.  
Suddenly Sherlock heard a massive crash that sounded like the shower curtain rail had fallen off and soon after a piercing screech filled the room.

"Molly? Are you alright?" Sherlock shouted.

"Do you think I'm alright? I mean, no sorry, that was rude, um…"

"Oh don't start stuttering again, I liked the other Molly better." He interrupted rudely.

His comment made Molly smile a very weak smile before she answered painfully.  
"Sherlock, can you come in here for a moment? I think I've dislocated my shoulder."

Sherlock didn't know what else he could do so sighed, closed the laptop and strode over proudly to the bathroom door.

"Are you decent?"

"Not exactly, hang on." Sherlock waited a few seconds before she continued, "Alright come in."

Sherlock turned the door knob half-way before realising it wouldn't turn anymore, well, he thought, this wasn't going to help.

"Molly, it's locked." He heard a soft groan of desperation as she tried to get out of the shower to unlock it. After a few more painful squeaks from Molly he just decided to break the door down. It took a few shoves before it unhinged itself but sure enough the barrier fell down. He glanced in the shower to see Molly curled up on the floor, clutching her shoulder and scrunching up her face.

"Oh Molly…" He started.

"Can we save the lecture for later please?" She requested, her voice hinting at the pain she was in.

"I wasn't going to give you one, I was just trying out some emotions- I believe that one was sympathy- but alright, I can arrange a lecture for you if that's what you want" He lingered on the last sentence, thinking about what he should say next. "Here, give me your hand." He offered his to clasp around hers. Gently, he stood her up at leant her against the wall. "Wait here a moment…" He smirked, "and try not to slip."  
Sherlock dashed off to her bedroom and opened her wardrobe. She really needs a shopping trip, he thought. He skimmed the wardrobe for something that didn't look like clothes a granny would wear- which was extremely hard for him- and paced back to wear Molly was.

"Oh, thanks." Molly reached out to take the clothes from him but her hand was soon knocked out the way. Puzzled, she looked at Sherlock, waiting for an answer to the silent question that showed in her face.

"Well, if you think you can dress yourself without screaming in pain every few seconds then be my guest." He thrust the clothes towards her expectantly, but got a sigh of annoyance instead.

"Fine, but promise me you won't look?"

"I promise on the power of my brilliance." He closed his eyes.  
She hesitated for a moment before slowly lifting up her right arm to guide Sherlock's arm to her shoulders. She put her arm through her sleeve but struggled to lift the other arm up without it throbbing badly. Sherlock already knew that would happen so held her left hand and tried to put the sleeve through that way instead of making her try to lift it up. As he was threading the top through he felt that something was different. He felt Molly shiver suddenly and tense up, that's when he felt his hand still holding Molly's. What puzzled him though was that he didn't mind the contact; in fact, he was thoroughly enjoying the feeling.

"Um, Sherlock?" Molly coughed.

"What? Oh, I was just taking your pulse." He made his necessary excuses and he let go of her soft hand sharply, making her wince. "There, all done," he opened his eyes and felt the corners of his mouth twitch into a small but noticeable smile.

"Thank you Sherlock," she muttered, blushing violently as she spoke. She tried to walk past him smoothly but ended up stumbling right into his arms. He rolled his eyes and straightened her up.

"Come on, we need to get you to a hospital."

"But Sherlock…" She protested, trying to warn him that people thought he was dead.

"Master of disguise, remember?" He pointed to himself mockingly and helped her out the door.

**I know, this chapter is probably too long but if I divided it where it was originally then it would be too short- I just can't win. As I said before, please review- otherwise I won't know how to improve or add things that you as readers might want in the story. **

**I also keep referencing to something in this story that doesn't really have anything to do with Sherlock- I think it's pretty subtle, but I guess I shall have a little competition.**

**Whoever spots the reference first (excluding forever young 14 and Sherlockedmelon because I know you should get it straight away) will, I don't know, have an internet cookie? Whatever floats your boat :) **


	5. When we first met

**Evening! **

**Thank you for the reviews! But tell me- it wasn't just because I offered you cookies was it? :)**

**Just a few replies…**

**Dancing Eyes****- (btw I love your name) I'm not too sure what I want to do with Sherlock and Molly yet- I know I probably should have. This story is also working off the reviews, as in ideas from reviews will probably be taken into account, so do you like Sherlock/Molly romance thing or would you rather not have it?  
Also, I'm really sorry about making John seem less important in the story- I'm working on that, and trying hard to bring him out a bit more.  
Your last idea was absolutely genius! I have changed the chapter name to 'The Last Dinner' in honour of that and I think we can work off that. **

**This goes for all readers- I want all your opinions of this particular matter.**

**daisherz365****- Thanks! If it helps, the reference is in this chapter as well but as a different form of it. I know, that was a really, really bad hint- sorry ;) **

**Seabean ****– Thanks so much, I'll try to keep the excitement up- but I have a feeling that will be hard, but I'll try, to keep you guys interested.**

**And last but not least- ****foreveryoung14 ****– Thanks as well, and sorry for the excluding you, but I know you know the reference from school and that wouldn't be very fair! I'm glad Lestrade approves- it would be disappointing is he didn't! Love you x**

**All of the readers- As I said above- your ideas are much appreciated and can probably improve this story a lot, so please review! **

**Sorry for the long start… Enjoy the story. Xx**

**Chapter 5**

"Well it should be all better in about a week to 10 days but for future advice maybe you should have a mat in your shower, you know, to stop you slipping around?" The unfamiliar smell of the hospital was unnerving for Sherlock, he didn't like the cleanliness, and it reminded him of all the times his dad tried to take him to be seen by the doctors when they thought he might have some kind of illness. Those were bad memories... Shivering slightly, he looked at Molly who was staring at him intently, not listening to a word the doctor was saying. Of course, as a doctor herself, she didn't need to know what he was saying. As soon as Molly saw Sherlock turn to look at her she cut out of her trance and turned back to the doctor.

"…Is that alright with you?" The doctor questioned.

"Um yes, that's fine, thank you doctor…?"

"Simpleton, the names Doctor Simpleton." Sherlock and Molly smirked simultaneously at the doctor.

"Molly, if you don't mind, I'd really like to go now." Sherlock stated impatiently.

Molly smiled apologetically at the doctor and said her thanks again before walking out the door, side by side, with Sherlock Holmes.

The cab driver objected to drive all the way to Molly's flat, claimed he was going to his sister's wedding but Sherlock soon saw through that amusing lie. He immediately deduced that the man was scared of that particular street, probably a fear caused by an incident that happened early on in the cabbie's life. He tensed up as soon as he saw the street name and frantically looked into all the mirrors, checking that he had no stalkers.  
Sherlock opened the door of the cab for Molly, and helped the injured lady get out. He hooked his arm in hers but made sure to keep his steps a little bit behind hers as he knew she still felt dizzy, although she wasn't going to admit it… He also interpreted from Molly's change of expression every few seconds that there was something more than just the dislocated shoulder bothering her, in fact, he didn't think the injury was bothering her at all.

"Thanks." Molly whispered, still clutching on to the arm of Sherlock.

"You're welcome." He was thinking about asking her what was bothering her, but then again, he knew he'd deduce it all later on.

They walked along in silence and in a few drawn out minutes they reached Molly's flat. Like a gentlemen, though he didn't realise it, he opened the door and helped Molly take her old-looking coat off. He peered his head round the front door and slowly closed it, the latch clicking to secure the lock. He didn't realise he was being watched.

Molly went over to 221B in the afternoon, remembering she had forgotten her favourite jacket in her rush to get back to her apartment. She walked up the stairs and lightly knocked on the door. A mousy haired man opened the door and grinned at Molly goofily.

"Hey Molly," he greeted, "I knew it wouldn't be too long until you came back round, I know how much you love that jacket."

Molly was surprised at the bustling figure holding up her jacket in front of her, it wasn't often John was in such a good mood, unless of course, he was laughing at Molly.

"New girlfriend John?" Molly asked, knowing the answer already. She smelt the new, expensive perfume on his neck and the lipstick stains on his lips. John started blushing as soon as she said 'girlfriend' and he was a jumpy as a puppy.

"You've definitely been round Sherlock too much Molly, but yes, I do." Molly was caught off guard, did he know? Did he know about Sherlock's survival? Quickly, she shook the idea off, knowing she shouldn't be so stupid. She looked at John again and started to grin, it was lovely to see John acting so dopey. She watched him catch his breath before continuing.

"Her name is Mary Morstan and she is absolutely brilliant. Brilliant!"

"Good for you John… Um, so what does she do for a living?"

"Oh, she teaches in a primary school just round the corner from the flat. She's the most amazing lady at handling children like that- it's like she's their own mother!" He tripped his own foot as he was talking, ah, Molly thought, already 'love-struck'. He grinned at her, "Now I know how you used to feel around Sherlock!" Looking at Molly's suddenly darkened face and clouded eyes, John immediately regretted what he had just said. "Oh Molly, I'm sorry, I didn't realise you-"

"Don't worry, I just overreacted. So what does this Mary look like?"

He paused, looking at Molly's face as she tried to look happy. John wasn't dumb and Molly was the worst actress he had ever seen- he knew something was up. Molly blinked a few times and glanced up when she noticed John wasn't answering her question. She gave a quick nod in his direction as she tried to take the focus off her and John (knowing she wasn't going to tell him anything) played along.

"She has the most beautiful features and the sweetest smile…" Molly stopped listening quite quickly. She was interested of course and ecstatic that John had found someone but couldn't help but feel a little pang of jealousy. Sherlock never saw Molly like that, and he never would. She wondered for a while what it would be like to be loved as John loved Mary but quickly pushed away the thought feeling the tears trying to break through the shield covering her eyes.

"…Molly? Are you OK?"

Molly replied instantly, almost guiltily, "She sounds amazing John; you must be really pleased to have met such a lovely lady." Molly's bad acting didn't fool him- it never did and it probably never would. John made his way to the kitchen and made a marmalade sandwich to go with the hot mug of tea brewing on the counter. Molly felt uncomfortable staying in Sherlock's flat without him there and quickly made a dash for the door.

"Um John, I just remembered that I have to go down to Barts and check out a few bodies. A man's alibi depends on what comes up on one of the bodies." Before John could protest she ran out the door, down the stairs and called a cab. Going to St. Barts wasn't such a bad idea, Molly thought, she needed to get away from the fuss, away from the hassle of Sherlock's life.

Back in the morgue Molly felt more at home then she had ever felt before, she talked to the cold bodies about her problems, reliving moments with Sherlock and pretending she was more confident then she actually was. She remembered the first time she'd started working at Bart's, she was warmly welcomed by the IT department from upstairs and a few of the Inspectors came down to see her. She didn't like the commotion that was being made for her, after all, the whole point of her finally choosing to work in the morgue was so she could be alone, the only company she wanted was her useless thoughts and pointless daydreams. At least that's what she wanted until he came in, the man with the long coat and the turned up collar. He had curly hair and high cheekbones, you'd cut yourself slapping those, she thought. He looked around the morgue, sensing something had changed, and then sharply turned his beautiful face towards hers.

"You must be Molly." It wasn't a question, she contemplated, it was a statement but it still needed an answer.

"Yes, Molly Hooper, you are?"

"Sherlock Holmes- the world's only consulting detective." He thrust his hand out to hers waiting for her response. She tentatively shook his hand, unsure of what a 'consulting detective' was. He stared at her for a moment, deducing her.

"Oh?" Molly questioned him.

He shook his head and sighed, trying not to roll his eyes.

Another man bustled into the room, his hair greying around the edges and his forehead covered with deep frown marks. Molly looked at Sherlock questioningly but Sherlock 's focus was with the man, his lips curving into a smirk.

"Ah there you are Lestrade, meet Molly, the new pathologist." Sherlock gestured to the mousy looking girl beside him. Before Lestrade could tell Sherlock why he had come down to the morgue, he was cut off. "If the cousin has an orange teapot, arrest the cousin."

"How did you?"

"As always Lestrade, you see but you do not observe." This time he couldn't refrain himself from rolling his eyes at the man- after all, he hadn't been told to be nice to this man, he only had to play nice with the girl.

"Yes, of course, right…" He turned to Molly, who had decided to look around the morgue a bit, recognising when men needed to talk alone. "You're the new pathologist then."Again, Molly thought, another statement.

"Yes, Lestrade is it?"

"Please, call me Greg. I assume you haven't got scared off by Sherlock yet- people normally end up slapping him right about…" He paused to look at his watch, "now. He has this thing of 'deducing' things that no-one else could spot, even with a microscope. Brilliant really, but he can be an annoying prat sometimes, which I'm sure you'll find off soon enough."

Molly grinned sheepishly, "So I'll be seeing a lot of you then?" She asked, inclining her head.

"Obviously." He looked Molly over again. "I come here to test things, when the little people up there are too oblivious to notice the obvious." He looked pointedly at Lestrade, who frowned disapprovingly.

"Of course, he needs your permission first to come down here. So if you've ever had enough of him, well, you can just lock him out." Greg said, smirking at Sherlock and not even trying to hide his amusement.

Molly saw there was a definite history between these two men and figured that they were probably trying to win one over on each other. It's all just one big game, she thought.

"Um, okay." She glanced around the clean room once more, fearing that if she kept eye contact with Sherlock she'd start blushing violently. Suddenly she didn't want to be alone in her work anymore; she wanted to be with this apparently brilliant man.  
When she turned back to him, he was gone, along with the Detective Inspector. She was left in the middle of a crowded room, these people didn't care about her being the new pathologist, they just wanted the excuse to mingle and chatter with their colleagues- she wasn't stupid. Instantly she knew she wouldn't get on with them, she probably wouldn't even speak to them again but that didn't bother her in the slightest. She rushed out of the room, knowing she was too invisible for people to notice her absence and found a grubby-looking coffee machine. Well, it is free, she thought. She pressed the coffee button but found out soon enough that nothing was going to come out. She kept pressing the button as she was bored and had nothing else to do, after all, she couldn't start working with all those people around her, it just wasn't a logical thing to do. After 5 minutes of frantic button pressing Molly Hooper slunk back into the plastic chairs lining the wall wondering what else there was to do around the hospital.

Back in the morgue, people were starting to clear out, getting agitated with the smell of dead people. Such plain people, Sherlock contemplated, can't even stand the smell of the dead. He rolled his eyes again before entering the morgue, looking around for the young lady who smelt vaguely of cats. Within 2 seconds, he knew that she had gone out, well, it was hardly an impressive deduction, who would want to stay with all the pathetic excuses for people. Annoyed, he swept out of the room, in search for the quiet girl.

"Given up with the coffee already?" Molly Hooper jumped up from the seat, startled.

"Uh, yes, it wasn't working for me."

"Oh, it's not just you." Sherlock hit the machine as if it had given him a reason to be so violent; he grabbed a cup and pressed the button again. Molly watched as black liquid poured into the cup, feeling stupid beside the genius beside her. Well, it wasn't exactly 'genius' to make coffee, but that didn't affect her.

Sherlock handed Molly the cup, trying not to burn her, "Black with two sugars- I'll be upstairs."

He left Molly a bit startled, and he found this quite amusing- but sadly, predictable. He had already observed a lot about Dr. Hooper so he knew she'd be taken aback by this outburst in advance, he expected nothing less.

Time went by and Molly soon came to realise that this genius would never have anything to do with her unless he was flirting with her for body parts- she wasn't stupid, but she never realised how well-off she was with him. Hardly anyone got this sort of treatment with Sherlock, he hated most people, but most of all he hated ordinary people. Molly was his exception.

**Thanks for taking the time to read this :) and please- keep reviewing, it cheers me up so much when you do, and your input will really help this story.**

**What do you think? Do you want John to commit suicide or have him, well, not commit it?  
I have my own ideas as well, but I can always use some of your amazing ideas to merge into it. **

**Thanks again!**


	6. Boredom can lead to great discoveries

**Evening readers!**

**Thanks for the reviews, taking everything into account like I said before, and I'm sorry but after a lot of decisions, Sherlock and Molly will not be a couple by the end of it. Things might happen to spice up the story, but unless something big happens and I think they should end up together- it's not going to happen. Sorry again!**

**Please keep reviewing, and enjoy!**

**:)**

**Chapter 6**

"Molly? Can I have a word with you?"

"Jesus! How long have you been here?" Lestrade was at the other end of the table, grinning like a dog.

"Long enough- I wonder- what on earth goes on in that head of yours."

"Ha-ha, very funny Greg."

"Well, I certainly thought so."

"So, what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

"Oh nothing much, I just happened to pass by and thought- 'hey, Molly's probably missing me so I'll pop in'."

"Oh?"

"Yes and you're not supposed to working today and I don't think normal people come to see dead people for fun, so tell me, what's up?"

Molly paused in her work for a second and glanced up to the Detective Inspector, she knew his intentions were good but she couldn't help feeling a bit agitated with his enquiry.

"Nothing." She snapped but instantly regretted it so plastered a smile onto her face. "I mean- I don't want to talk about it just yet- sorry." Lestrade looked a bit thrown by the annoyance in Molly's voice.

"Of course, I understand." The tired man backed out of the door, muttering his goodbye, trying not to anger Molly anymore.

Molly let out a well-needed sigh and continued to stare down at the corpse. How pathetic, she thought. Well, that wasn't going to sop her having a good old conversation with the poor dead lad she was about to cut open, was it.

"So, remember Jim? Jim from IT? Sherlock said he was gay, that didn't really bother me after a while, but he just turned out to be the world's only consultant criminal. Genius really, but now he's dead, I had to do the autopsy on him so I'm sure of it. I miss him, not the criminal side of him of course, but the 'gay' side of him. He was lovely, he cared, and I could see it in his eyes. I'm not sure if that was just his outstanding acting or if I really made a difference to him. Sometimes…" She paused and looked at the dead man's file. "Uh- Andrew, I want him to be alive. I don't love him as much as I do for Sherlock, but hell, Sherlock's a pain in the neck to live with- if only you knew- and Jim, well, Jim was as I said- lovely." She sighed, and covered up the dead man again deciding it was probably time to go home. She packed away all the equipment she didn't use away and took the elastic out of her hair, letting it fall beside her shoulders.

"Unnecessary visits to the morgue now? Tut tut Molly, you're getting bored."

'_Bored_'. The word Sherlock used so often was being used to describe Molly Hooper; she felt some kind of thrill with being slightly related to Sherlock.

"Yes, well, no-one comes down to the morgue now apart from Lestrade, and all he does is annoy me." Sherlock raised an eyebrow at the computer screen, "Not that I don't like him, he's great, it's just he keeps asking me what's up and it's getting so monotonous at work that all that I enjoy is talking to dead bodies…" Sherlock smirked while Molly slapped her head, "I can't believe I just said that."

"Bad day?"

"Haven't you already sussed what's happening?"

"Not quite." Sherlock mused.

"Oh, well if you want something new to think about- John has a girlfriend…"

"Mary- I already know, but do you know what's unbelievable Molly?"

"No, what?"

"He moved on from me so fast." Molly stood frozen to the spot, her mouth gaping open. "Flies will soon make a home in your mouth if you don't shut it Molly."

"You and John were…?"

"No. You are so gullible Molly; it never fails to astound me."

"That wasn't funny Sherlock!"

"What would it matter to you?"

"Didn't I tell you before? DEDUCE!" Sherlock turned around to face her, cocking his head slightly, but all he saw was the bedroom door closing and the picture on the wall shaking again. He thought about getting her a better nail or something to put the picture in, it was going to smash one day.

It was a bright an early morning on a Sunday and Molly was putting on her white lab coat. Despite the warm weather she had bundles of cardigans on; all looking like something her grandma would wear.  
Sherlock was already up; he had been up since early hours stumbling around the apartment, lost without the company of his violin. He had been thinking about another sonata he could write but he needed to test it out. Brilliant. He dies and he can't even have music around him- what was the point? What would John do with it? He's absolutely hopeless with anything musical anyway, he thought. All they put in the grave was the deerstalker hat and good riddance to that; he still didn't see the point in a hat that could stalk deer.

Sherlock heard Molly fumbling around in her room tripping on all the clothes that he had thrown across the floor while finding her something to wear for the hospital trip. He still needed to suggest some different clothes to her- maybe it would be her birthday present. No- bad idea- he couldn't be bothered to find out when her birthday was.

Molly tried to avoid the awkward morning conversation she had with Sherlock, it was a better idea to just smile and walk out but something caught her eye. There was paper everywhere.

"Um Sherlock, what's all this?" Molly asked as she piled up the crumpled paper trying to make a cleaner impression.

"It's music Molly, something that I can't DO anymore!" Molly lost her balance on the floor where she was kneeling by the sound of his smooth voice snapping at her.

"Oh, do you want me to get your violin back?" She offered, brushing herself down and trying to fake a smile for him.

"Don't be absurd, John's not that stupid- he would notice." Molly's eyes followed Sherlock as he strode around the room. He paused and nastily rolled his eyes at the timid doctor, "You are dismissed Molly…"

Molly blinked twice, "Uh yes, alright, bye." She knew he wasn't going to reply so she unlatched the door and sauntered out. As soon as she was out she leant against the door and rested her head. "Okay…" She breathed.

Suddenly Sherlock remembered he had to tell Molly something about John. He yanked the door open and caught a very surprised, out of breath girl in a white jacket. Sherlock held Molly in his arms for a moment before helping her stand up. She turned around to face Sherlock, trying to even out her breaths before he noticed.

"Thanks," she whispered, deciding to glare at the ground so as to avoid eye contact with Sherlock.

"What were you doing leaning against the door?" He enquired.

"I was thinking." Molly mused.

"About?"

Molly looked up at him, startled at the question. She shook him off lightly and started towards the door calling to him. "Um, nothing, I have to go- don't want to be late! Bye!"

Sherlock watched as she darted out the door and dashed down the stairs, not waiting around for the lift. In all the excitement, Sherlock had completely forgotten what he was meant to ask Molly. Well, he considered, it couldn't have been that important.

Molly walked into the gleaming morgue, invisible to everyone else and found 2 dead bodies waiting for her. This was easy- they didn't even need a pathologist for these guys.

Harry- Died from a 'suspicious' car accident, alcoholic, abuser, been beaten up, scars from sharp objects.

Mike- Died from an overdose, also alcoholic, bruises everywhere- fresh, scars from a few years back.

Boring.

She went through her draws, looking for something to do- most likely paperwork but found something that stuck out between 2 folders- it was a slip of pale blue paper with typed writing on it.

Ah Molly,

You've stopped writing in your blog, how am I meant to know how to get to you? It's what people do isn't it? Keep in contact? Well, I'm alive- Sherlock isn't the only genius around here as much as you like to think. Did you not think that I could just find someone who looked like me and then change them to look exactly like me? No, of course not- you're Molly after all. If you need any help with your computer Molly, I'm always happy to help. You know where to contact me.

Oh and if you mention this to Sherlock I will skin you, I mean I really don't want to, I hate killing my special pets, but I have to take desperate measures if something is a threat to me. But then again, you? A threat? You couldn't so much as hurt a mouse! You'd just feed them cheese and hope they go away! As much as I would hate to do it, I really would kill you if you decide to disobey me. Are you going to risk doubting me again?

Hope Toby's okay.

-Jim from IT x

Or

-J.M

Or

-Moriarty.

P.S I know you still like me; I've watched the security footage. You talk to dead bodies for fun? That's a little bit low even for you dear. You know, you should really stop liking me, I am a criminal now- I'm not 'lovely Jim from IT sweetheart. But of course, you always find the good in people don't you- even if there's none at all. After all, no-one can be all bad, can they…darling.

Molly read the note over and over again, shocked. Jim, Jim from IT- gay Jim was alive! No. That Jim was dead- gay Jim was no more, in his place was criminal Moriarty.  
She sat down on those uncomfortable good-for-nothing chairs for a long 10 minutes before walking up to the IT department and scanning through her blog. She knew she shouldn't contact Jim; she hadn't even given it any thought- it was just an impulse reaction. Sherlock would be disappointed, she thought, so why was she doing this? She knew she craved the danger of her ex, and she knew he could kill her without a second thought but she still wanted to see him again- even if it was just before she died. "Going suicidal now Molly?" She muttered to herself. She shook off the image of Sherlock's face filled with anger and disappointment and scrolled through her blog slowly.

She was embarrassed at all of her entries- she talked like a foolish girl and dressed like an old granny- should she even be allowed out? She pondered over the comments of her and Jim and it became obvious to her that the way Jim spoke probably implied 'gayness'.

Molly eyes flickered over the entry she had written about Sherlock, blushing scarlet and holding her breath as she read…

_**Entry from 28**__**th**__** January,**_

_**Do you believe in love at first sight? There's this man and I love him. At least, I think I do. I can't stop thinking about him. He's so intelligent it's like he's burning. And he's so cool but not really. And he's fit. Oh, he is really fit. And I can't stop thinking about him. I'm a sensible girl, I always have been. I've worked hard to get the job I have and I've got plans but he just rides all over everything. It's like I'm Molly Hooper, in control. 'Little Miss Perfect' as my mates call me. Until he walks into the room and then suddenly I'm this little mouse. He turns me into a mouse.**_

What. The. Hell.

She hadn't updated her blog since the 2nd April and it was a good thing too, it was an embarrassment to all women. Sighing in regret, Molly Hooper typed slowly into the 'new entry' box- it was time to contact Jim.

**Thanks for reading this- please keep the reviews coming. I am running out of ideas very quickly and I don't want you all to lose interest. Just for reference to future chapters…**

**Mary will be gone soon. (Sorry to everyone who supports John/Mary)**

**John is eventually going to try and commit suicide (I wasn't just making the story title up to get you interested)**

**Sherlock/Molly won't be a couple (sorry for all of those who support that)**

**I have no clue why I added Moriarty- it's probably just going to mess things up a bit more then the story already is, but I shall figure something out, i.e Any ideas?**

**Thanks again for reading- CLICK REVIEW! :D **

**Night x**


	7. Don't lie to Sherlock dear Molly

**Before I start rambling on about pointless stuff to you, I just want to say to the guest who posted that review- you made me laugh so hard! That was generally the highlight of my day. Good idea though, maybe another time we can make Molly evil and Moriarty nice…? Bit strange but hey…**

**THANK YOU ****SHERLOCKED MELON**** FOR THAT AWESOME REVIEW! I must admit when you said let's 'start' with the positive feedback, I got a bit worried on how much negative there was going to be… Don't scare me like that again! /Not referencing to our embarrassing German lesson there…/  
I was thinking about writing that kind of scene but I am absolutely terrible at writing John- I actually find Sherlock easier because he doesn't have all those mixed emotions and everything- but yes, with your help I shall write it for chapter 8 (let's make use of our German lessons ;) )  
So many ideas you have! I love them! But I shall get everything mixed up and then no one will read my story any more- so yes, I am again asking for your help that you keep refusing to give me…  
****  
Dancing eyes- ****You are my loyal reviewer- you have to keep it up if this story's going to get anywhere… ;D I'm glad someone likes the whole no Sherlock/Molly thing. With this whole Moriarty idea, I'm definitely going to bring him in some more because once you tamper Moriarty in a story, he takes over- burns everyone in his way… (Sorry, I make really bad jokes when I'm tired) I do like this idea of Molly/Moriarty, I think it would definitely bring out his character more but it's going to have to be well written for it to work properly so I'll need time (a lot of it) to make sure it's not going to mess up the structure of the story. Uh, I sound like an English teacher now, what I mean is, I'm not a great writer and it's very possible if I try writing it in less than a week, it'll lose all my readers, which wouldn't be so great. I shall try my hardest though Thanks for the amazing reviews! **

**Forever-young- **** Are you completely evil? I think, if you actually met Mary you'd kill her with your glare straight away! Calm it! She's going ;D Thanks for the review Gregoravich, it was much appreciated! I've just added 'Gregoravich' to my dictionary, I can't believe it didn't recognise it!**

**Sorry everyone, I just find it rude if I don't reply to reviewers, but back to the story…**

**Chapter 8**

"Tea dear?" Mrs. Hudson called from the door.

John was sat back in his usual spot, holding onto the stick that had recently returned after Sherlock had gone. He looked over to the old landlady with no sign of a smile on his face. Mrs. Hudson hadn't seen John smile for over a year now, but she had heard him sound almost gleeful when his girlfriend came over to visit, which, in her opinion, was getting quite rare, but at least it was something. John sighed in despair before replying to the weary lady at his door.

"No, don't worry Mrs. Hudson; I'll get it this time." He said, as he attempted to stand up, his hand wobbling on his stick.

"But John, your leg?"

"DAMN my leg!" He shouted, but again, regretted it immediately. "I'm sorry, I just… Tea would be nice Mrs. Hudson, thanks."

"Okay, is your leg getting any better?" She asked politely.

"I don't know- it's psychosomatic and Sh- Sherlock was the only one to ever prove that so I guess unless he miraculously shows up I'll always have this blasted stick."

"John, have you…" She paused, "have you moved on from Sherlock yet?"

"I wasn't in love with him for God's sake!" He protested.

"I never suggested that. You two were very close, so I know it's hard for you to admit he's gone. It's hard for all of us-"

"Well it's not hard for him is it? He's dead, he's gone! Nothing affects him- it just affects us. All of us! Doesn't it make you wonder if he even cared?"

"John! Of course he did! You know that very well." She snapped, causing John to sink back down in the old arm chair.

"Yes-of course- I'm sorry. I think I better go…" He mumbled, embarrassed of his actions.

"What about the tea dear?"

"I'll pass." John said, standing up and steadying himself. He winced- he was no use to anyone anymore, not even Mary. Mary was slowly breaking it off with him- he knew it- it was so obvious. She was a lovely girl, but even she could only stand so much of hearing about Sherlock and he knew that.

He walked out the door, brushing past Mrs. Hudson carefully, making sure not to bump into her hip.

"Bye dear; say hello to him from me as well." She called as he made his way down the stairs. John looked back at her with an expression of a startled deer, he soon relaxed though. Of course she knew where he was going- where else did he have to go?

"I will." John replied, walking out.

**Sherlock** watched as John approached the grave, he knew he would be there- he always was. He left notes in little brown envelopes on Sherlock's gravestone, pinned down by the new flowers he had bought for his friend. John had started talking to the gravestone and Sherlock was just able to hear what he was saying.

"It's been a year now Sherlock. You still haven't come back… Is this some kind of game you're playing with me? Because it's sick Sherlock- it's really sick!" John snuffled and took a tissue out of his pocket.  
"What I meant was… I miss you. I know you're still alive. You have to be- you're a genius remember? You wouldn't just die like that and you hated the concept of suicide since the moment I first met you. If you ever had any morals than that was one you were strong about." He wiped his eyes violently before continuing to speak to the empty grave, "One more miracle Sherlock… Please, please be alive."

Sherlock felt a pang of sadness flood through his heart- he knew he had one, but only John made it show to its true value. He missed John badly, he didn't even realise how much. John was his best colleague; he owed him so much for being there for him when he was in one of his moods, for teaching him things he wouldn't delete from his memory and for just being there- as his…friend.

He watched as John covered his face with tissues, sniffling into them- crying into them. He wanted to run up to him right then and hug him tightly and never let go. John would die if he came back though- and that's the only thing that held him back. He caught a glimpse of a black figure the other side of the gravestone- yards away from John. Sherlock could faintly see a gun beside him- a sniper; he peered closer at the mysterious man and then glanced back at John. Snipers weren't good for anything but killing…but a sniper on John? Moriarty was dead and Moran had packed up… Surely he wouldn't still be targeting John…

He observed as John limped back to the road and put his hand out for a cab, still weeping into the disintegrating tissue. A black cab pulled up and asked where John wanted to go, in which John answered "221 Baker Street" as he got in, stumbling a little with his stick- he still wasn't used to having it back. Suddenly a smack of realisation hit Sherlock- he must get Moriarty's inner circle arrested as soon as possible if he wanted John to stay alive. Making sure the coast was clear and that John was gone, Sherlock bolted to the cab that seemed to be taking a break and flew into the back seats.

"Hey! I'm not off break for another ten minutes at the minimum. Get out!" The cabbie shouted angrily into the mirror. Sherlock, however, was ignoring the protests of the man with the slight American accent; his focus was set on the black figure who had been at the grave with John. He was holding his sniper as if his whole life depended on it.

"Surely not…" Sherlock muttered to himself, a little bit dumbfounded. He only had two ideas for this strange occurrence- either Moriarty was alive to order John's death or- and Sherlock winced at the thought- they knew Sherlock was alive and well, living in the flat of Molly Hooper.

"Yes, and it's a well deserved one at that. I've been ordering people around all day, it's tiring work." The cabbie sighed, still clearly agitated, "alright, where do you want to go?"

Sherlock tore his eyes from the figure and stared into the seat in front of him. He told the agitated man where he was heading… Molly's flat. If these men knew he was alive, she'd be on the 'to kill' list, he had to get to her before they did. "…And fast!"

"Alright then." The cabbie turned the mirror away so Sherlock couldn't see him but he quickly dismissed that, leaning into the window, thinking of quicker routes this predictable cabbie could take. He looked around the cab, instantly deducing things about the driver. He made a list in his head to keep him occupied…

Just married.

No kids.

Drinker.

Used to do drugs- sell them as well in fact.

Not religious.

Boring, Sherlock thought, all of it was so boring and so predictable. He took some cash out of his pocket knowing how much he'd need to pay. The cab slowly pulled up on the curve and Sherlock got out practically throwing the money to the cabbie in a frantic rush to see Molly. He started to walk away but got stopped by the cabbie.

"I told you before Sherlock," the cabbie said but Sherlock was thrown by the sudden change in voice. The annoying American accent was replaced with a strong, familiar Irish one. Sherlock whirled around to find the cabbie driving slowly away, throwing the money back at him.  
"No charge." Sherlock looked just in time to see the cabbie drive away, glimpsing his face. The face of Moriarty…

Sherlock ran up the stairs, ignoring the beeping of the lift, knowing he could beat it anyway.

"Molly? MOLLY? Where are you?" He shouted. How could he have been so easily fooled? He had just led Moriarty to the one girl he didn't know had a part in my life. Well now he knew, he knew that she was no longer just a pathologist, but a threat. A threat to him and his inner circle. He would have to leave, he searched his whole mind for another option but found none- if he wanted Molly to stay alive, then he would have to stay away from her. Her and John, he thought, he had to leave them for good because he had been fooled.

"I'm here Sherlock," came the soft reply of his pathologist. He opened the door to find Molly sat on the couch, pretending to be reading a magazine. He knew she didn't care for those media things, and especially not after what the media did to him. He tried deducing things about her to occupy his mind from what had just happened, but what he saw on her hit him harder than seeing his old enemy.  
Her hair was tangled in her ponytail, her middle parting was back, she wore no make-up and her clothes were ruffled. Sherlock wouldn't have bothered caring about those tiny things that could mean anything if he hadn't seen the worn look on her face, the red bloodshot eyes that were trying to hold back tears and the scar, slashed against her white cheek. She was fresh from a fight.

Molly must have seen Sherlock's eyes grow wide in anticipation and fear and was very surprised. She thought he'd overlook it, he never paid any attention to her well-fare anyway, so why should this matter? She felt guilty about him realising what had happened to her and shot up out of the sofa, making excuses to go to the bathroom.

As soon as the door clicked behind her, Molly scrambled through her make-up bag and found the concealer. She knew that she wouldn't be able to fool Sherlock into thinking he hadn't seen it, but it was at least worth a try. After she had finished trying to get the scar to vanish, she looked like a doll, a very ugly doll. Her face was thick with concealer and she didn't like it one bit, but she knew she couldn't go out and let Sherlock find out how careless she was out on the streets so she applied the final touch of lipstick to conceal the cracked lips and made sure her eyes were dried. Then she started on her hair- her thick, messy hair. It had fallen back into a middle parting in the attack when it had been pulled out of her work bun and tangled like knots. She brushed it back into the side parting that Sherlock claimed to like better and wouldn't stop brushing until she was sure it was  
knot -free, smooth and shining. She gave herself a final look in the mirror, bracing herself and brushing down her clothes, before unlocking the door and going to sit back in the sofa.

"It doesn't take that long to go to the toilet Molly." Sherlock clearly stated as soon as she walked back in.

"Uh, I know, I just had to do a few things, you know, take medication?" She didn't mean it as a question, but because of her uncertainty it came out like one.

"What happened?" Sherlock asked, not looking up but obviously expecting an answer.

"About what?" Molly asked innocently, "have you managed to get Lestrade to arrest anymore of Moriarty's men?"

"Don't change the subject Molly."

"I wasn't, because I don't know what the subject is!"

"Have I ever told you how rubbish you are at lying?"

"All the time Sherlock…"

"Good- then stop it."

"Stop what?"

"LYING!"

**Molly **sat on the sofa, her head buried in her hands. Sherlock was pacing around the room in a fidgety manner, his hands were clasped in a prayer-like action- fingertips brushing past the tip of his nose.

"Could be Moriarty's men, of course they'd go after you- you're easily fooled…"

Molly sighed at the insult and brought her head out of her hands revealing very tired looking eyes to the detective. He was still pacing, looking vaguely annoyed- probably at her, she thought- and still holding his hands up to his face. After the initial denial that the comment was meant to be mean Molly thought over what Sherlock had said… '_Could be Moriarty's men._'

"You know about Moriarty being alive?" Molly asked, giving Sherlock a puzzled glance.

"Well Molly, if I hadn't, you would have just told me because all I said was 'Moriarty's men.' I never once mentioned Moriarty as a singular person." He spared a second of his time to glance at Molly, taking in her worn appearance with some of his deduction skills, but of course, he already knew most of it but Molly wouldn't give him the full details. "Wait," he said, "how did you know he was alive?"

Molly looked back down at her hands, looking disappointed in herself for letting something that easy slip from her mouth. "I-I guessed, I mean, you weren't going to come running up the stairs screaming my name because of any old criminal- it had to be a criminal I knew, it had to be something personal."

"Impressive deduction Molly," Sherlock nodded in approval and Molly blushed in delight, "but I already read your blog, and to be honest, it wasn't likely that anyone else apart from his will kill you and have your number, and not to mention 'Jim' was the only one who ever communicated to you through your blog- which needs knew pictures by the way. You're not 5 Molly…"

Molly, who was still staring down at her hands, turned very pale while shock registered on her face.

"Sherlock, I would have told you but-"

"I know why Molly, as much as the world would like to think- I'm not stupid." His face was slightly snarling, and Molly knew that was meant to be an insult to her- her being the one who should be thought stupid.

"Sherlock?" Molly muttered, her voice growing with an unknown anger, "as much as you would like to think… I'm not stupid either." She stood up and gestured to all the framed certificates that were up in the flat, proving her point. Lowering her hands back to her sides, she faced Sherlock, making clear eye-contact with him without flinching, holding it for a few seconds before she walked into her bedroom, closing the door softly.

Sherlock waited for the whimpering- it never came.  
He waited for the snuffling- it never came.  
He waited for the full on tears- they never came.  
He waited for the banging of her head- it never came.

Sherlock stood, unmoving from where Molly left him, that wasn't predictable at all. What was Molly doing if she wasn't acting shameful or girly like she did normally if she stormed out? But Molly didn't storm out this time… She waited until her point was proven, looked him calmly in the eyes and simply walked out, almost angelically.

**Ooh… That was my failed version of a cliff-hanger everyone! You have just witnessed me at my worst :) Thank you again for your reviews, and speaking of reviews…**

**CLICK BELOW.**


	8. His miracle

**Evening (for some)**

**I've updated a day early because I won't be able to update tomorrow, sorry for any inconvenience. **

**This chapter is a tiny, little bit rushed… Okay, it was rushed a LOT. But for you, because you at the moment are my favourite people /soppy moment closed/.**

**So, I kind of forgot that I had to write a whole (hopefully longer) chapter in time for today, I was focusing on other things, or maybe I just wasn't focusing on anything at all- either way I'm sorry if the writing shows the rush I was in, please don't let it put you off. Just finished watching a LOTR marathon and it was AWESOME. Just saying.**

**Who actually reads these things anymore? I might as well talk to myself for a while and I don't think it would make any difference. **

**Anyway, if you don't want to read my replies to the reviewers then scroll down until the boldness is no more and HAPPY READING! :D**

**So here goes, my little reviewers… (That wasn't meant offensively!)**

**Forever young- **** Not evil? You're trying to create loads of death scenes for Mary! And don't tell me it's nothing personal against her… Thanks, you realised you reviewed at the end as if you were actually talking to Molly. You strange little thing… **

**Dancing eyes- **** I love writing your name, I feel magical…moving on. Brilliant idea! I need to write all these ideas down actually you have such a great imagination! I'm not going to ruin the plot that I've created for later but I have a few things that are going to build up to his attempt on suicide and that (if you don't mind me using it- I feel a bit strange stealing ideas) would be the thing that would trigger it all off. **

**Jenna Yemowa- ****Thanks, but if you want to be impressed properly read my friends story. Since I can't post links, it's called 'Got Sherlock' by Sherlockedmelon. Read it! It's amazing! That's something to be impressed with! I like ice-cream, ice-cream's good- though maybe not in the weather we have now…I think I'd freeze! That would be telling, but no, it didn't happen in her room as such- it might have carried on into her room, but it started when Molly was walking home. Shh.**

**SherlockedMelon- ****Keep being ill then! :D I shall try, I'm running out of insults though that's why I'm trying to subtle him out a bit. 'Trying'. But I shall definitely take that advice- I agree with it. I was about to say, I totally agree, and then I thought- no. No no no. TOTES BRUV. Sorry. Had to say it. Urgh- to your number problem, I was not thinking about how to type the numbers doofus! But if it makes you better I shall refrain from using numbers. Gah :3**

**Guest- **** I don't think it even counts as a cliff hanger to be honest, but thanks! Yes that is the aim of the game and I shall try to keep you interested- with my magical powers, mwahahaha. I'll stop scaring people now, I'm in a very strange mood today. **

**Keep reviewing guys!**

****

**Chapter 9**

John was lost- completely and utterly lost.

Life without Sherlock wasn't just upsetting and lonely, it was empty. He tried thinking over all the events leading up to the death of the detective, trying to spy out anything he might have missed while being with him. Nothing. Nothing was suspicious about Sherlock's recent behaviour, well, apart from the usual eyes in the fridge and all that. Flickers of the phone call from Barts rang through John's mind, all up to the fatal fall. Still nothing. Nothing that John missed accidently- no depression, drugs, not even any patches. Sherlock was at his best before he died- was that the problem? Sherlock was fine? That normally meant he was bored… But bored? He couldn't have been bored with some consultant criminal begging for his attention every few seconds. John was going round in circles, he would never be able to make sense of Sherlock, but he wouldn't stop trying.

John picked up his room from the beaten desk in the corner of the dusty room. Looking around he realised how dark it had got the last few days. His curtains were full of grey specks at the top, the flowers that his family had given him for his loss were dead and the old photos on the table looked almost yellow and aged. The black phone felt heavy in his hand, it was being weighed down with the memories of Sherlock and his first real conversation… Well he says conversation.

He evened out the weight by turning the phone in his hands, studying it as much as he could. He thought back to Sherlock's deduction, 'I could have done that!' he muttered, "I could have done that!" Standing up, John remembered Mary. He should call her, he thought, he hadn't seen her in a while and she was all he had left!

He dialled her phone number into the heavy phone and pressed the little annoying green button. He waited for the ringing to start, and it did- but it kept on ringing. A few rings later it went onto voicemail, and after the three beeps, John left a message.

"Hey Mary, this is John. Look, I know it's been a long time since we saw each other and I know you don't particularly like me talking about Sherlock all the time and I completely understand. I feel bad about chasing you away with my continuous rambling so, um, dinner? I mean, Mary, would you like to come out for dinner with me? If that's not good for you we could always do brunch, everyone loves a good brunch don't they? Anyway, I'm still very sorry for the last few weeks, please get back to me…Um, bye."

John hung up the phone and started balancing it in his hands lightly, finding nothing better to do. He sighed and lie back on his bed, closing his eyes for what he wished was the last time…

John woke up startled about his little nap, he glanced at his alarm clock- it was gone 6pm already!

"Damn it!" He snarled.

A croaky old voice came from the direction of the kitchen, "John? Are you up now? You're tea's getting cold dear."

"Oh, um, yes Mrs Hudson, thank you."

John stretched out his arms and legs while attempting to get out of bed, but he just ended up collapsing on the floor, looking confused and tired. His eyes searched around the room for no apparent reason before he finally decided to get his tea, feeling the urgent need for it.

Mrs Hudson was sitting in her armchair reading the daily newspaper and sipping tea from her usual mug. She glanced up when she heard John's footsteps and gave her best, warming smile to his mousy face. Noticing the weary look on John, she frowned a bit, doing her own little deductions on him. Her eyes followed his movements as he walked over and took his tea from the counter slowly.

"Are you alright John? As a doctor yourself I think you know it's not normal to sleep in the day when you're sleeping fine at night…"

John looked blankly into the wall as if there was something only he could see, but something he didn't really want to see. His eyes flickered over to the chair where Mrs. Hudson was still sitting but never looked at her.

"Hmm." He replied.

Confused and a bit worried, Mrs Hudson decided it was best to let John talk to her in his own time.

"Oh, John?" She called from the chair, back turned away from John. "You have a message on your phone, I heard it while you were asleep." She turned her head around to see his still blank expression before saying, "it was from Mary."

John's eyes expanded noticeably and his hand started twitching- just slightly. He turned around to face Mrs. Hudson and smiled before reaching into his pocket, taking out his phone and walking out of the flat, holding his phone to his ears.

Mrs Hudson was surprised at John's reaction. She had been doubting that John actually liked Mary; he never talked about her, and never showed the slightest interest with her, but when she had mentioned Mary's name to him, his face had significantly changed in a way that she had only seen when he was with Sherlock.

The restaurant was much warmer than the streets of London and John was glad to be there, especially with the girl he was sitting opposite to. He looked at the wooden table, covered in a smooth white cloth and a vase of red flowers. Looking up, he saw an image of a girl that he wished he could see everyday- just to keep him staying alive. The room was dimly lit with candles, and if there was electronic lighting it was extremely well hidden from the public. There were no curtains on the windows, just the view of what happens in everyday life staring at you right in the face. It was a bit un-nerving for John to be honest, he saw young people curled up under the gutters of the café opposite the fancy restaurant, staring intently at the food being graciously served, the fire crackling and sparking up at the slightest bit of wind, the couples laughing and the people leaving- making the door swing wide open and close and open and close, to and thro, to and thro. The leftovers on their plates were swept clean into big black bins, and the people outside watched hungrily as the food vanished before them. Their eyes grew intense at the sight of a roasted bird being served on one of the table to two very rich looking guys, but they knew the men wouldn't finish all of it- and the rest would get thrown away. What a sad thing to witness. John Watson looked at one of the young girls (around 14-16 years old) pitifully, what a horrible way to live, he thought, he would never throw his food away again.

John turned his attention back to his date. 'Date,' what a low class name for such a wonderful women, he thought, no, he would call her his miracle- the girl who stopped his mourning over Sherlock. He would forever be in her debt, and she didn't even know it. Without her, John thought, I would have gone over the ledge a while back, but she balanced me out and then got me far enough to step back from falling back off. He admired the way she ate, so beautifully- almost as if she was given professional classes on how to eat- but not strict, no, just peacefully and gratefully.

"John, why are you staring at my plate?"

"I what? Oh, no I wasn't, I was just thinking." John exclaimed. He wasn't about to explain how he's been watching the way she eats now, was he?

"About Sherlock again?"

John noticed the small sigh that came after it, the disappointment that she hadn't taken his mind of Sherlock for once; the regret that she even thought it was possible to just have an evening without him, and the pity she felt for me, for not being able to sustain one date without Sherlock interrupting.

John spoke softly, "Mary, I wasn't."

He looked into her eyes, staring at her, showing a look of promise to her- well, he tried to, it probably just ended up looking like a stalker stare.

"Stop staring at me like that John, it's creepy!" See, I told you.

John started laughing under his breath; obviously his look of promise wasn't what he thought it looked like.

"Sorry Mary. What I'm trying to say is that I wasn't thinking of him and I promise that to you. You change me Mary, you make me stop mourning and start living again. You're what has kept me from becoming suicidal all this time…" He took a small, silent breath, "And that's why I don't want you to leave me; that's why I'm changing my ways and leaving Sherlock out of all conversation with you unless necessary… I don't want to lose you Mary- I don't have anyone else close enough to help me through."

John looked down at his fork, playing with his food with the tip of his fork, pondering over what he just admitted to Mary. Was it too much? Even for a guy like him? The soppy kind of open guys, who will admit anything to a person they can trust- but was that going a bit too far? Was that on the verge of scaring her into just walking out? He felt the uneasiness swaying to the beat of his heart. If he looked up, would Mary still be there? Or would she have vanished, never wanting to see him again?

"John?" He dared to look up, and he saw what he was hoping for, apart from the expression that she was holding in her face.

Mary's face was softer than before, and a smile threatened to break through as her upper lip started curving upwards and twitching in the slightest way.

"Yes?" He whispered, confused and slightly interested in her reaction.

"It's okay John, I'm not going to leave you anytime soon. I promise."

Looking up into Mary's eyes, he saw that she was keeping true to her word. Her eyes were wide with anticipation, sparkling under the candlelight- she didn't want to leave unless John gave her reason and he was determined to not let that happen.

And as they walked back to the flat, John handed the leftover food that he had put in a little plastic bag and handed it to the eager eyes opposite the restaurant, knowing that Sherlock would have been glad that his Homeless Network were still being looked after.

John stopped outside the flat where Mary lived and gently let go of her hand. They hadn't taken a cab because they didn't want to miss all that London's night time views could offer. Reluctantly Mary turned away from John to unlock the door. Not wanting to leave him so soon she decided that maybe John would appreciate a nice warm drink before he took the cab back home- after all, it was awfully cold out there. She wondered if it was a bit too forward to invite your date into the flat if you had avoided them for a few weeks before-hand. Ouch. The regret Mary felt about avoiding John was almost unbearable, had she had known he was relying on her to keep him sane she wouldn't have left him so unexpectedly. She had grown very agitated with John's constant moaning about Sherlock, his grieving…his sadness. How very selfish of her, she thought, she would never make that mistake again.

"John, would you like to come inside for a drink?"

"Um, yes okay, that would be lovely." John smiled gratefully at Mary, he was freezing and only wearing his jumper, since he gave his jacket to her after they left the restaurant- he figured it was the gentlemanly thing to do.

"Cool." Mary turned the key and the door opened with a satisfying click. They climbed the two floors of stairs together, not bothering to take the lift.

"This is…wow. Much neater than Sherlock's flat! How do you keep it so tidy?" John gasped as Mary's door swung wide open. It made him look like a tramp comparing himself to a princess in her castle!

"I don't, my mum came over last night and decided I was too messy for her liking." John thought he heard a hint of detest for her mother in her voice, "And I haven't had much time to tidy it all up my way yet." She grinned sheepishly at John- might as well get her attitude to cleanliness out in the open, she thought.

"Just like me then, although, I've been the one who's had to clean the apartment while Sherlock was living in it, if I hadn't we wouldn't have been able to move!" Laughing at the memories John looked up to see Mary, but what he saw made him stop his laughter. She had tensed up slightly and started frowning a bit, but as soon as she saw John was looking she plastered a smile onto her face.

"I wish I had a room-mate like you did. I've tried having one but you can never find someone who can fit in just right, they're either too snobby, talk too much or eat everything you own!" At that point a real smile was on Mary's face and John felt more at ease. "You're one of the lucky ones, finding a roommate that fits with you, that you get along with and that understands you…"

A loud snort came from John at those words, and he got a questioning frown from Mary.

"Sherlock understanding me would have meant he wouldn't have kept a head in the fridge or thumbs in the freezer. That would have meant he would have bought the milk and jam once in a while and it certainly would have meant he wouldn't have played his violin in the morning." John explained.

"Do you not like music in the morning then?" Mary questioned, looking a bit confused.

"Oh no, that's fine! I meant what Sherlock classes as morning, i.e 2am- when he thinks everyone should be up."

"Oh, I see. Well, I promise you I will never do that." She stopped in her tracks suddenly, thinking over something frantically and holding a positively startled expression on her face. "I…I didn't mean it in that way, as in, you know, that I wanted you to move in with me right now… Or even ever if you didn't want to, I'm not pushing anything!" She grasped her hands, twisting her fingers around her thumbs, as if she was agitated.

"It's fine!" John soothed, half yawning.

"Oh, it is pretty late; you should probably get home soon. Sorry for keeping you so long."

"Um actually, I'm quite tired now. Would you mind if I, er stayed and slept on your couch. I don't particularly want to get a cab in the dark, after the whole Study in Pink case; cabs are already pretty creepy for me at the moment, but I really don't want to go in the dark." He paused and realised how intruding he sounded at that point, "Uh sorry, I didn't mean to intrude, I can always take the train." He mumbled softly.

"No! I mean, I'd love you to stay, it's pretty lonely in a big flat like this and the company would really help. You can use the spare bedroom; the couch will make your back really stiff in the morning- trust me, I know." John felt confused, if this is her flat why was she sleeping on the couch? He wouldn't ask because he knew she probably didn't want to tell.

"Oh, well, if that's alright with you."

"Yes, yes, it's fine. It's not in use anyway but it might be a bit dusty…" She looked at John guiltily.

"That's fine, my own room back at the flat will be in much worse condition – believe me. I've neglected it ever since…" He cut up his words and turned away from Mary instinctively- pretending to admire the photos on the wall.

"John, it's okay. I don't mind it when memories come back- I've been through what you're going through. I know how much it hurts."

John turned his face around to look at Mary who was standing beside him, her hand placed on his shoulder. She was staring blankly at the wall, a shield of tears covering her eyes, threatening to drop. John saw there was more to Mary than he thought. He had mistaken her for a girl whom bad things didn't happen to and he saw there was a great deal that had happened to her in the past…haunting her. He felt a curious feeling swooping over him but he knew better than to ask her. Mary would tell in her own time if she was to tell at all.

Carefully, John placed his left hand over his right shoulder where her now gripping hand lay, and held it, stroking it lightly- trying to comfort her.

Strange… The tables had turned viciously and John knew it was his time to comfort Mary- sooth her as she did to him. How selfish of him, he thought. All this time he was moping about Sherlock and he didn't even realise that Mary could have been through something like it. So childish of him… Sherlock would have realised before he had, but there he was again, thinking about Sherlock instead of Mary, who really needed his thoughts.

"Mary." John whispered, giving her a hesitant sideways glance while still facing the wall.

"Oh John!"

A wave of emotion flooded through her face just before she buried herself in John's shoulder. He pulled her shaking body back onto the sofa and put his arms around her protectively.

"Thanks," a snuffled voice murmured.

John didn't reply - he didn't see any need for one. He just listened to the soft beating of Mary's heart and held her until her shaking stopped and her breathing slowed. The army doctor smiled at her closed eyes, leant back and shut his eyes- trying not to think about the horrors that could have faced Mary in the past…the horrors that could still be haunting her.

**A/N**** I guess I should explain my 'XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX'.**

**When I uploaded the chapters the last few times the separation between 'scenes' wasn't working and the line just completely disappeared when it was uploaded. So, instead of this, I've had to use 'X' to separate out the scenes/different parts otherwise the story will just be mubbly-jubbly. **

**Please review (the people who are hiding from me) – all your views count on the story! And I know you're there, I recently found out I can see how many people are viewing each chapter. Please! /desperate voice/ Reviews make my day- seriously.**

**Button down there… CLICK. **

**Thanks for reading! Love you x**


	9. Disguises and threats

**2 reviews… C'mon guys, I have no incentive to write when no-one talks to me. Wow. That sounded lonely. Anyway, I'm not really in the mood for typing a long entry that I don't think anyone actually reads anymore. Thank you for you two who did review though, :) it was nice. **

**Can I just say (ahem 'Forever Mione') that that chapter was dedicated to John and Mary so we get to know John's feelings for her and how close they actually are. In the actually stories, they're married, although Conan-Doyle killed her off, so be thankful I'm not putting you through that torture ;)**

**I hope you guys enjoy this chapter a bit more than last time.**

**Happy reading :)**

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**Chapter 10**

"_Sherlock?" Molly muttered, her voice growing with an unknown anger, "as much as you would like to think… I'm not stupid either." She stood up and gestured to all the framed certificates that were up in the flat, proving her point. Lowering her hands back to her sides, she faced Sherlock, making clear eye-contact with him without flinching, holding it for a few seconds before she walked into her bedroom, closing the door softly. _

Molly was sitting on the edge of her bed massaging her head with the tips of her fingertips. At every touch there was a slight tingling sensation followed by a burning one, but she didn't stop, she just got used to the pain. Wasn't that what everyone did?

"_Hey sweetie, bit late for a girl like you to be wandering around the streets innit?" _

_Molly froze in her tracks, she knew she should run- that's what a normal person would do- but she just stayed frozen. They'd catch her anyway, she thought, no point giving them the thrill of a chase…_

"_You can talk buttercup." The man's voice was a bit more pressured now. They wanted the pleasure of hearing the fear in her voice- should she give them that?_

_Another man walked in front of her- 2 men, 1 in front, 1 behind…no escape._

"_You deaf or sumin'? What you doing out so late? Meeting a guy? You gunna get up to some naughty things with him I bet." The man in front of her said, winking behind her._

"_Oh I bet you are… But you know what sweetie? We can give you a much better experience."_

_Molly's eyes were wide with fear. Knowing she couldn't do anything, that she was vulnerable to them made her feel useless…worthless._

"_Look at me!" The man in front of her demanded, jerking her chin upwards causing her to bite her tongue. She grimaced as she tasted the warm blood filling her mouth, automatically she spat it out._

"_Why you little bastard! She just spat blood on me!" The man exclaimed. "Now you'll have to pay the price cupcake." His voice turned gruff and Molly dared to look at him._

_He was fiddling with his belt, trying to undo it. It was now or never, Molly thought, she looked behind (trying to be subtle about it) to see if the man behind her was also distracted and she found he too was trying to undo his belt, but much faster than the other one. Taking a deep breath, Molly found the strength in her arm to swing a punch at his face. As her hand hit the man's jaw, she heard a loud crunch and winced- she'd never meant to break his jaw… Quickly she turned to the other man and kicked him in the groin, only to have her foot grabbed and jerked upwards. Molly ended up face down on the ground, groaning loudly. Slowly, she tried turning herself around to rest on her back, but she didn't want to look at her attackers so she shut her eyes tightly. _

"_Try another stunt like that and we'll do much worse to you." One of the men said._

_Molly opened her eyes wearily, staring into the face of her attacker. She knew it wasn't wise to do what she was thinking of doing, but what had she got to lose? _

_Slowly she tried sitting up, as if she wanted to say something._

"_So now you want to speak to us muffin? Well tough, we'll do the speaking now."_

_A heavy boot sunk into her waist and Molly was thrown back onto the concrete floor. She screamed as loud as she could, calling for help- it was all she had left to do now. _

"_Enough of that!" A man said frantically, worried that she'd be heard. Molly looked up at him, not seeing the fist that was coming down heavily on the side of her face. Groaning, Molly turned over, covering herself from anymore blows- none came. She listened for the two men talking, but she couldn't hear them at all. She pulled all her strength together to turn and look at where they were standing before, they weren't there. She sat up curiously and looked around- she was alone on the alleyway. The men had gone, but no-one had come to help her… Exhausted, Molly lay her head back on the concrete floor and shut her eyes, hearing only the noises of the cars driving past._

Molly couldn't escape what had happened to her. She heard about gang crimes all the time on the news and in papers but she never really thought it would happen to her- little mousy Molly.

In a way Molly wanted to go back to when it happened because there was still some questions lurking around in her head and when Molly had questions they weren't gone until they were answered. Who had taken the men? Where had the men gone? If someone had taken the men away, why hadn't they helped her afterwards?

She knew the two men weren't going to go away on their own accord; they were having too much fun with her for that. Another question intruded her thoughts- who had she got to care about her?

No-one she knew was strong enough to fight off those men, so getting the men to go without a fuss was a complete no-no. Molly only knew one person who could intimidate people like that and he certainly didn't care about her being alive or not, after all, he had threatened her life enough.

But could that meant she was worth something to him? She had to be worth something if he was spending his time writing threat notes to her…

Silently, she sent a prayer to her saviour, thanking him with everything she had in her. She didn't care if he was probably going to be the one to end her life eventually; he had saved it at the moment.

Molly dug out her laptop from her heap of clothes and decided to check her blog. She knew that there really wasn't any point in it, but what else had she got to do?

_1 notification. 1 comment on 02 April's post._

Strange, Molly thought, that was nearly a year ago now… Who would be commenting on it now? Shaking her head, Molly clicked on the notification.

_At least you're staying alive sweetheart._

_-J.M_

Of course! So Molly was right- it was Jim who had saved her life, but something didn't fit… Jim hated getting his hands dirty-he wouldn't have done it, no, he would have ordered it. Had he been following her home? How had he known she was in trouble and had enough time to get one of his men to come along and stop it? Too many questions, she thought, and not enough answers.

St. Barts' morgue was as its usual quiet self when Molly got there. She started to wonder if she was meant to be the only one there or if the others skived off because they knew she'd do all the work for them anyway. Molly didn't really know why she'd come here, she had finished all her work after all so there wasn't anything to do. She sat down and thought for a while. She thought about Jim, about Sherlock, about what they were going to do now they knew each other were alive, about what Jim would do to her when he found out Sherlock knew he was alive and then a thought slipped into her mind before her brain could push it away… she thought about how much she missed Jim.

No. She couldn't think that- he was a criminal! One of the best! Sighing heavily, she stood up and tucked her stool back under the table before walking up the clean grey stairs up to the IT department.

The IT department was empty except for one man at the computer in the corner who hadn't even noticed her presence, of course the rest of the workers probably had families to go to; she should have known she'd be alone.

Never the less, Molly stayed in the dark room and logged into the furthest computer away from the door, her unsociable side definitely showing. As she typed in her password she realised how easy it would be for someone to hack her. That would be the second thing they would guess! First Sherlock, then Toby… But then, who would want to hack into her account anyway? What was the point?

Molly glanced over the man in the corner, wondering why he was still there. Maybe he was like her, just minding his own business, not involving himself with anything too stressful- although that didn't really work for Molly. He caught her looking at him and smiled. Molly shivered unexpectedly; his smile was almost as creepy as Jim's. Quickly, she looked back at the screen and went on her emails.

_1 new message._

Finally, she thought, someone took the time to message her.

_I am the master of disguise. Not Sherlock…me. But seriously, you are dumber than I thought mousy Molly; I have made it painfully obvious to you._

_-J.M_

Master of disguise? What was he talking about now and how had he gotten her email address? Of course, Jim will be Jim…

Another message popped up on her screen.

_Getting bored now Molls. I thought you were meant to be smart. I was so obviously mistaken…_

_-J.M_

Molly decided to reply this time; she didn't see what harm it could do.

_Hi Jim,_

_Not to sound so stupid to you or anything but-_

Wait a minute, Molly thought, Jim couldn't be getting impatient with her if he didn't know if she'd got the email or not, so he must be watching her somehow. With a wide grin on her face (thinking she'd outsmarted him somehow), Molly looked at the ceiling for any hidden cameras, but her grin soon vanished when she found none. Curiously she looked around the room at eye-level and noticed the man in the corner had gone- disappeared!

"Is it obvious to you now Molly?" A whispered voice came behind her. There was no doubting who it was and Molly saw no point in trying to make believe that it was someone else. Suddenly, she was scared; she knew what this man could do to her… She shot up out of the chair, stumbling on the table legs and pressed her back against the wall on the other side of the room.

"Wh-what do you want with me Jim?"

Moriarty smiled and walked very slowly to the shaking figure up against the wall.

"Still calling me Jim then? Everyone else calls me Moriarty…but how sweet, little Molly's still crushing on the bad guy." He teased.

Molly pressed herself harder against the wall to get even further away from him; her head was starting to ache though. She remained silent as he teased her; she didn't want to let anything out about Sherlock or about how it was probably true that she liked him.

"So this is your great idea then? Not talking to me? Because you know Molly, I can make you talk if I want to…"

"I know." Was all Molly managed to get out.

"There we go! Some progress already!" He was so close to Molly now that she knew any wrong words and she could die at any second- there was nowhere to run. "Ah but you're still scared of me."

"No, no I'm not." Molly lied.

"Don't lie to me Molly, I absolutely hate liars. I can hear your heartbeat quickening when I get close to you and you're shaking as if it was winter and you were in shorts and a strappy top."

"I'm sorry."

Jim's face clouded over, "Don't say sorry to me Molly. You know how much I hate it when you do that."

Molly didn't say a word. She tried to stop herself from shaking too much as Jim pulled away from her.

"Oh Molly, you've done a bad thing haven't you…" He paused, "some of my best men have been tracked down and locked up. Now you and I both know that only Sherlock could have done that sweet pea and I specifically told you to keep this a secret."

Molly looked up at Jim in shock. "No, I didn't tell him," she said shakily, "he found out because he read my blog."

"Exactly. Therefore, you provided him that sacred information."

"I only did it because I had no other way of contacting you!"

Jim stopped pacing and looked at her, eyeing her.

"I had to contact you, because you contacted me and I felt it was rude not to reply." She lied, trying to cover up what she'd just blurted out.

"Hmm… Try again."

"I was looking out for myself, I didn't want you to kill me, so I just had to say, please refrain from killing me?"

"Nope. Stop lying Mo-"

"Because I wanted to contact you again!" Molly choked out between sobs, "Jim, you were the only guy who ever paid any attention to me! I don't care if you were using me, although I probably should, because you took the time to be with me! I don't even care if you don't care or think I'm some dumb idiot who just gets in your way, I just wanted to know you were actually alive…" She wiped her eyes, "I wanted to see you again."

Jim stared at her blankly so Molly couldn't see the expression he was really feeling. Molly closed her eyes as her knees gave way and she collapsed onto the cold floor. Moriarty didn't move from his spot, instead he just watched, fixated, as Molly curled up and cried into her woolly sleeves.

"Thank you Jim." A whispered voice said. He nearly didn't make out what she'd said because she still held her head in her sleeves.

"For what?" He replied, plainly.

Molly looked up at him, drying her face with her sleeve, "For saving my life."

Sneering, he turned his back on Molly and said, "I didn't. If there was one thing you were right about Molly- it's that I don't care about you and I never did, I cared about how close you were with Sherlock, yes, but not how close you were to me. I didn't even realise you were there half the time, you were just getting in the way of Sherlock and I."

He was right, Molly thought, he never cared and he never would and she was stupid for ever thinking differently.

"What? Did you think I really cared about you Molly? Did you think you were worth something to me?"

_Worth something._

"Why did you send me that note then? You told me you were alive and trusted me; you threatened me with my life! You wouldn't have done that unless I was worth something." Molly retorted, slowly standing up and walking a few steps closer to him. "If I wasn't worth something Jim, then you would have killed me straight off for knowing too much about you and keeping Sherlock alive! Don't lie Jim. I hate liars."

Jim turned around to face her, growling. "You think you can tell me how I feel little mouse?" He pushed her back against the wall with his glare- those piercing eyes. "I was bored and Sherlock hadn't realised I was alive- so therefore, you were my entertainment. 'Were' it. Not any more though, now you're just useless to me, I have Sherlock to keep me, well, on my toes."

"Then why did you save my life?"

"So I could kill you myself, instead of some lowlife thugs. Although, I suppose that is what you deserve Molly…"

"If you wanted to kill me yourself, then I'm worth something." Molly protested.

"No Molly, you know deep down you're just kidding yourself. You know you're worth nothing to me. What's the point in pretending? You know, if I kill you now, the sad thing is, no-one will notice. Absolutely no-one. Isn't that sad?"

"You're wrong. Sherlock will notice."

"Ah so you think Sherlock will care? Even better. He's using you too darling, but at least I'm telling the truth about it."

"Sherlock doesn't really understand how you're meant to treat others; the only people he treated respectfully were Mrs. Hudson and John. And at least he wouldn't kill me after he's done with me!"

"Oh, I think he understands perfectly, he just doesn't like doing it if it's not necessary. But you're right, he wouldn't kill you. He'd do something much worse Molly. He's leave you alone, leave you like you were never there and to him, you'd be nothing. At least my way, you don't have to live life in regret and misery."

Molly thought over Jim's words. He was right, that much was obvious. Sherlock wouldn't just leave her though, would he?

"He would dear Molly, he would."

How did he…? Never mind, maybe it's a trick that him and Sherlock can do- read minds. A question floated around Molly- was it better off just to die and be done with it? She'd never know the difference if she was dead.

Suddenly she noticed how close Jim had gotten to her while she was thinking…it was too close.

"I've scared you again, haven't I mouse?" He murmured, stroking her hair, "You don't have to be scared of me all the time. For you it would be much easier, but I guess it's more fun for me!"

"Why are you doing this to me Jim?"

"Doing what?" He questioned innocently, pressing closer to her, the air between them getting thinner.

"Threatening me, and then making me think you're going to…"

He pulled away, smirking. "Going to do what Molly? Kiss you? Ha. You need some sleep; killing you won't be any fun if you have sex on the mind." He rolled his eyes at Molly one last time before walking out the door, swinging his jacket over his shoulder.

Molly woke up to Sherlock sitting on the end of her bed looking through the heaps of mess she had on the floor again. How many times was he going to keep waking her up like this?

"Morning Molly, you're late for work." He stated simply.

Something was up, and this wasn't his, 'I'm bored' voice- it was his agitated, annoyed voice.

"It can wait," she replied, getting out of bed and realising she was still in her clothes from the day before. "Um Sherlock, why am I…? Never mind. Do you want tea?" She sighed and rolled her eyes; he was probably only here again for her to make him some tea.

"I've made some."

He spoke quickly, as if he wanted Molly out of her own room, as if he was already annoyed with her.

Molly sighed heavily, "what have I done now Sherlock?"

"Lestrade will wonder where you are Molly; he has another body for you to do an autopsy on today. Tea's on the table, though you hardly have time to drink it."

Studying Sherlock was hard for Molly; she didn't know where to start with him. Firstly, he was in her room when she woke up, waiting for her to get up- but then made the excuse it was only because she was late for work. Secondly, he made her tea again, but then said she probably shouldn't drink it because she'd be even later. What was up with him? As Molly was trying to deduce him, Sherlock had moved off the bed and out the room, closing the door gently after him.

Sitting down on the sofa Sherlock thought to himself quickly, not wanting to waste any of his time that could be used more wisely, like tracking down Moriarty's men. Did Molly not even question how she had returned to her flat? Did she think she had simply called a cab and forgot to get changed when she got back? Simple minds think simple thoughts, he concluded, but wasn't it polite to thank him? He tried his best with manners around Molly but she obviously wasn't going to return the favour. She obviously wasn't aware that she had collapsed and cried herself to sleep in the IT department after Moriarty had left. She obviously wasn't aware that Sherlock had had to carry her to a cab and then carry her up all those stairs because that stupid lift wasn't working. She was obviously just as simple-minded as everyone else…

Molly's bedroom door opened very slowly and a puzzled figure walked out.

"Sherlock, how did I get home last night?" She asked, whispering shakily.

"I took you. You're even later for work now Molly, so hurry up- Lestrade's waiting."

Sherlock was quite surprised as Molly nearly flew at him, embracing him in a very hard hug.

"Thank you Sherlock, thank you."

Sherlock freed his arm from her grip and hesitantly patted her back, unsure of what he should do. He muttered words of comfort to her, telling her it'd be alright, that Moriarty wouldn't lay a finger on her while he still lived. As Molly's head was buried in Sherlock's shoulder, he decided he should probably text Lestrade. So using his free hand he typed,

_Molly will be quite late, but you don't need her. Your murderer committed suicide last night._

_-S.H_

Molly saw he was texting while she was having a breakdown on him and didn't really know what to think- it was Sherlock, he probably didn't even realise that wasn't the proper thing to do, so she laughed.

"Sherlock stop bullying Lestrade." She gave him the most accusing look she could muster and he laughed.

"Someone's feeling better then."

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**Thanks for reading guys, please review.**

**Until next time, bye :) x**


	10. Yes boss

**Okay, well I got 4 which is better than last time :) And thank you to all the reviewers, they were great inspiration! **

**Um, just a little heads up- there's lots of sections to the chapter today so if you get confused or have any questions pm me and I'll try to get back to you.**

**Enjoy the story!**

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**Chapter 10**

"You alright boss? You haven't said a word since you got home last night." Sebastian Moran was getting worried about his boss' behaviour, it just wasn't normal for him.

Moriarty just glared at his right-hand man, warning him not to push it.

"Alright! Calm it! I was just asking!"

Last night Moriarty had stormed into Moran's flat with absolutely no explanation for the startled sniper. Moran had watched a Moriarty paced up and down the room, he thought that maybe Molly hadn't survived the attack and that they were too late for her, but his boss wouldn't be so angry about that- he hardly cared for the girl! Sebastian just presumed that she was important for information.

"How's the operation I sent you and those others out for going?" Moriarty ask plainly, giving none of his emotions away.

"Um, well boss, some, erm…"

"Get on with it!"

"They got arrested Mr. Moriarty, and they're being tortured for information."

"How long ago was this?"

"Just last night boss."

"Good. Hopefully those bastards won't have talked yet… Find them and kill them- they're not reliable any more. They're so…weak."

Moran sighed. If Moriarty kept killing all his own men then he would be the only one left! He was the only one he trusted enough not to kill without reason.

"Yes boss." Moran said as he made his way out the door, "And what would you like done with the bodies?"

"Burn them." He stated as simply as possible. It was from that moment that Moran knew something was definitely up with Moriarty. He knew he was only ordered to burn them if his boss was in a particularly bad mood and Moran was only just getting used to burning people- Moriarty had introduced him to it when he had confronted Sherlock, saying that it might come in handy.

"Yes boss."

Moriarty sat down on one of the sofas that he had bought for his sniper and thought a while. He thought about thinking about Molly, but then again, she was just distracting him at the moment and he didn't want to think about her…but Sherlock however was a very interesting topic to start his morning with.

Knowing Sherlock was still alive had become such a thrill for Moriarty as he had know that without the detective he wouldn't be able to last long in a world full or boring people! But now Sherlock was making him kill his own men and destroying all his forces. Of course Jim loved to play dirty, but this time, he had nothing to play with. To give Sherlock what he really wanted was going to be interesting… Sherlock wanted retaliation. He wanted Moriarty to give him attention, and he was going to get exactly that.

Lots of ideas flicked through the consultant criminal's mind, but all of them were so boring. He could kill Sherlock's men, but where was the fun in copying his ideas? Plus Sherlock's men weren't exactly very well-off to start with, killing them would just give them the easy way out and he wasn't going to be that nice. No. He was going to have to get very close to Sherlock's personal pet- not Molly though- John. The one person Sherlock couldn't breathe without…how absolutely brilliant.

Killing John was too messy though, and so obvious. He'd just have to play with John like he played with Sherlock…make John commit suicide. Now that, he thought, would be very fun to do.

John had just finished his lunch and was starting to get ready to go round to Mary's flat. He had prepared to surprise her at her flat because it was her birthday and she wasn't going to be celebrating otherwise. Mary hadn't even told John about her birthday, he just thought it was a bit odd that she was suddenly getting loads of cards coming through her door so he asked her.

He picked up the flowers and the wrapped present and walked out the door, passing Mrs. Hudson on his way down the stairs.

"Oh John?" Mrs Hudson waved to make sure his attention was on her. "Hello dear, would you kindly pass on this to Mary for me? I saw it was her birthday and just quickly popped into the local store to get her something. It's nothing much, I just saw it and thought 'wouldn't that be lovely for Mary?'" A large box wrapped in pink paper was thrust out to John.

"Um, wait a minute Mrs. Hudson." John put his presents to Mary on the floor beside Mrs. Hudson and took hold of the rather heavy big box. "Now will you put my things on top of the, um, whatever it is…"

"Oh it's a few special plates, cutlery, vases, jewellery, pots, you know, that kind of essential thing for a women. They're all painted very nicely and they match together so it won't clash with anything else." John's mouth was gaping open, "Oh John dear, please close your mouth else you'll swallow flies!" The landlady said, sounding like she was honestly worried.

"Mrs. Hudson, you didn't have to get her all this. She probably has most of it anyway, it's not like she's just moved in… You know what, never mind, just pass me my stuff please."

As Mrs. Hudson was placing John's little presents on top of her massive one, he couldn't help but feel slightly agitated. His landlady, who hardly knew Mary, had got her a whole lot more presents (and expensive ones, that John would probably never be able to afford) than him, who had only got hold of some jewellery and flowers!

Mrs. Hudson opened the door for John and guided him to a cab, which had stopped outside on his lunch break and smiled as he got in the cab and was driven off.

"So who you spoiling?" The cabbie asked in a thick Scottish accent.

John smiled to himself, "Oh apparently I'm not actually the one spoiling her. I got her the two little presents, my landlady however decided it was necessary to out-do me and get, well that big box of stuff."

The cabbie laughed whole-heartedly, "so it's your girlfriend I presume? Girls, they need so much attention these days. See in my time in Scotland-"

"My girlfriend does not crave attention if that's what you're suggesting! She doesn't even know I'm coming today. She didn't even tell me if it's her birthday until I asked! So don't you dare talk about her like that!" John shouted protectively.

"Alright Mr. Calm it, just trying to have some fun."

"Sorry. I just got a bit worked up that's all. Don't mind me, um, are we nearly there?"

The cabbie smiled at him in the mirror, "yes. So what's the name of this girl?"

"Mary." John replied, "Mary Morstan."

"Nice name. We're here now." The cabbie pulled up on the curve and watched as John got out and walked up to the flat. "Johnnyboy."

Moriarty sat at the bar in his favourite disguise, a drunken Scottish bloke. He absolutely loved playing the part and having the beard, it was just brilliant.

"Any more for you sir?" The guy at the counter asked. He was a young guy and very, very cute. Jim liked those kinds of guys- they lasted longer with their screaming and whining in bed. Unfortunately for this guy Jim had other things to do, although, he might come back to this guy after he was done- just to see what he was missing out on.

John and Mary, Mary and John. John had even been helpful enough to give the second name. Mary Morstan…poor girl. From Moriarty's reliable research he had found out that Mary was a Primary School teacher, but still had a good fortune according to her bank accounts. Her father was in the army but had recently disappeared, though if she was aware of that Jim didn't know. Well, he thought, he was going to have to study their relationship thoroughly, he didn't mind killing her, but he wanted to make sure he killed someone who was keeping John sane enough to not try suicide. Oh and it would have to be a very interesting, tragic death, he thought, something thought-provoking, something intense.

"Sir? Do you want any more?"

"I hope Mrs. Hudson didn't spend too much on all of that, goodness, where am I meant to store it?"

"Oh I'm sure she won't mind what you do with it all. Here, open mine." John offered out his smaller present and Mary gladly accepted it. Tentatively she unwrapped the golden paper and pulled out the silver box inside, revealing a sparkling diamond necklace with pink jewels lining down the middle of it and petite earrings to match by the side of it.

"Oh John," she breathed, "They're beautiful."

"Well, um, I was hoping you would wear them tonight at dinner." John murmured.

Mary locked eyes with John for a few seconds before replying, "I'd love to."

"Boss they're just heading out now, do you want to wait a while before you follow them?"

"No, just drive Moran."

"Okay boss."

Moriarty was now disguised as a well-off and highly respected English businessman. It wasn't as fun as being Scottish but he'd live with it for now. Moran and he were going to have a little spying game with John to find out how close he really was to Mary. It was very cruel, he thought, but it was the work only a genius could do properly- and he was just that.

"They've stopped boss. I think maybe we should wait a few minutes before going in, otherwise it's going to be pretty obvious we're spying."

"Yes, yes. Just be quiet a moment."

Moriarty's conscience kicked in suddenly. If he was to kill Mary, or in fact anyone that John loved enough and John committed suicide, well, what would Molly think of him? She was already scared of him, but she still liked him- he could tell.

Oh what did he care?! There she was again, distracting him with her pathetic ways. It would be much better if he had killed her last night, she didn't deserve the pleasure of Jim torturing her first, and she didn't even deserve the pleasure of Jim killing her. He should have left her to the lowlife thugs that tried raping her. That would be her sort of death.

"Boss? Are you alright? You're sort of twitching again." Moran sounded concerned for his boss. Though of course he didn't really think of Jim as his boss as such, although he was scared of him most of the time, he thought of him more as his saviour and his friend. Moriarty had taken him in when he had nowhere else to go. He hadn't liked the sound of the offered job very much but he took it and eventually started to get use to it- there was nothing else for him to do.

"Yes I'm alright!" Moriarty snapped.

"Boss…"

"Just park already, we've waited long enough!"

"Boss just wait!" Moran winced, he expected at least a stone cold glare from his boss for speaking against him, but he just got a blank expression and a nod from him to go on.  
"The last time you didn't tell me that something was wrong, you nearly killed yourself and I was worried sick for days. You may not like this, but you're my friend, boss. You're my best friend because you saved my life and let me work for you. You trust me and I trust you- that's how it works isn't it? That's how friendship works! So if you can't trust me enough to tell me what's going on now then it'll be back to me just taking orders, not trusting you, being scared every minute of every day wondering when you were going to order my death and not giving you advice… I can't trust you if you can't trust me."

Fully expecting a lethal punch from Moriarty, Moran shut his eyes tight and leaned away slightly. Nothing came.

"I don't know what's wrong Seb." Moriarty said plainly, "I really don't know." He opened the door and walked towards the restaurant, leaving a very confused sniper behind.

"Lamb risotto please."

John still couldn't chose what he wanted, there was so many options, so many that reminded him of times when he and Sherlock had to eat in restaurants like these while waiting for a murderer to make an appearance.

"_So your theory is that the murderer is just going to turn up at this café and confess himself to you?" John knew by now that Sherlock was usually right _abou_t where the murderers were at what time, but this just seemed ridiculous._

"_Don't be so absurd John." Sherlock said, not paying the slightest bit of attention to his companion._

"_Then why are we here?!" _

"_Isn't it obvious to you? Of course not." He paused, smirking a little, "The killer is going to come to this café because this is where he gets his money. He sells drugs to clients at a set table which is over there to your left every Thursday. It's how he earns John, it's all he earns- he can't not come here just because he murdered someone."_

"_Just because?! Sherlock you are such a mach-"_

"_Sh, he's coming in."_

_John just glared at Sherlock. 'Just because he murdered someone,' it's surprising he didn't just say 'something'! How could he not care?! _

"_He's sat down now." John turned to look, "No John, don't be so obvious!" Sherlock exclaimed quietly, pulling John's head back around to face him. John had seen a glance at the man and let's just say he didn't want to get on the bad side of him. The man had muscles everywhere you could have them and tattoos covering the whole of his arms. Silver studs were covering each side of his nose in a threatening look and he had a golden ring hanging from his nose. It was enough for John not want to look at him again._

"_Uh Sherlock, why aren't you arresting him?"_

"_I don't have a permit on me. I can't."_

"_Since when did you care about being 'legal'!"_

"_I don't."_

"_Then why?"_

"_Too much effort."_

"_Bloody hell." John muttered, there was a murderer sitting behind him, and the man with the power to arrest him couldn't be bothered to do it! _

"_You say that too much John." _

"_I can say worse to you!"_

"_I'd rather you didn't."_

"_Then stop complaining!"_

"_There's nothing else to do. I'm bored._

"_Then arrest him if you're bored!"_

"_Can't be bothered."_

_Frustrated and angry, John sat up, knocking the chair backwards and walked over to the man at the table. _

"_I'm arresting you on suspicion of murder. Anything you say or do may…"_

_John was quickly spun around and grabbed by the sleeve by a dark blur. He was getting pulled out the door at such a speed that he lost his focus for a few seconds after. As his vision came back, the dark blur started to become clearer. It was a pale man in a long dark coat and thick dark hair._

"_Sherlock?! What the hell?! I was just about to-"_

"_Wrong man John."_

_John pulled a very confused face at Sherlock and looked through the window to see an extremely angry-looking man walking towards them, obviously craving a fight with them._

"_Oh." John said dumbly. And then they ran._

"John?" Mary interrupted.

"Um, I'll just have the rib-eye steak with extra salad please." John said hurriedly. The waiter nodded and walked away, leaving Mary looking worriedly at John.

"Thinking about Sherlock again?" Mary asked.

John saw no point in lying to her. What was the point in that?

"Just about the time he made me try an arrest some guy that looked like a professional wrestler at a café on suspicion of murder."

"You've arrested someone?" Mary asked, intrigued at the thought.

"No, I tried. Turned out Sherlock directed me to the wrong man, who let's just say could probably be a wrestler…"

A soft laugh came from Mary and John thought things were going well.

****

"I can hardly hear them! Was this the best you could do?!" Moriarty growled at his bodyguard. Here he was trying to get information out of John and he couldn't make out a single word they said!

"Sorry boss. We couldn't get the other tables because they're booked up for tonight." Moran said.

Moriarty wasn't listening. He was eyeing John's very camp-looking waiter… This could be interesting. He was getting so bored of this disguise that the idea of dressing up as a waiter was becoming very fun in the mind of Moriarty. He could do so much with it.

"Moran, poison that waiter."

Moran looked at him, puzzled. "Sorry boss?

Moriarty rolled his eyes despairingly, "You heard me Moran…"

"Um, yes, okay boss."

"Be quick about it and make sure you get his clothes off him… We're going to be playing dress-up again."

Moran smiled, he knew what his boss was thinking and he liked it. It wasn't his best work but it would be interesting enough to play along with.

Walking towards the waiter, Moran saw John and Mary sharing, well, a moment of affection for each other… How sad for his boss to miss that one.

"What can I do for you sir?" The waiter asked as Moran as he approached.

"Oh nothing much," Moran said as he stuck a needle very subtly into the waiter's neck. He watched as the waiter went limp and his mouth started frothing up white liquid. Looking down at his badge, Moran saw that his name was Richard. How fitting, he thought, grinning wildly.

Making it look as though the Richard was still alive was easy for Moran; all he had to do was stand him up and make him look like he was slightly interested in what they were 'talking' about while he dragged him into the back room.

"There we go." Sebastian muttered, as her heaved the man onto a bench. "I don't know why I'm doing this… Boss has great pleasure stripping men of their clothes; I guess you're not very interesting for him." Dealing with bodies was just a usual job for Moran and he had started the hobby of talking to dead people quite early on, he found it gave him more comfort somehow.

Sebastian finished collecting all the waiter's clothes and texted Moriarty,

_Job done boss, I have the clothes for you._

_S.M_

A few seconds later Moriarty strode in smirking. "Oh, what a lovely body he had. Too bad…"

Moran handed him the waiter's clothes and the name badge which had the golden engraved name of Richard.

"Now, we better not keep John waiting." He looked around and saw two meals placed on the table with a sign saying table 05… perfect. But then, only he would get the joke.

****

"Here you go sir, oh and a lovely meal for a lovely lady! Enjoy guys!"

Moran grinned from the nearest table. He loved it when his boss acted gay, it was so realistic. He watched as Moriarty or Richard as his name now was, walked away back into the kitchen, claiming he was refilling there drinks.

"Well, he was nice and lively. I wish all restaurants would hire people like that, it really makes you feel good." Mary said brightly, taking a spoonful of her risotto.

"Gay?" John suggested.

"Yep definitely!" Mary said, trying to splutter her food everywhere.

As Mary was finishing her dessert, John was taken into his thoughtful mode. He thought about how Mary made him happy , about how he was so lucky for her to come into his life and about how he thought she would dump him as soon as he messed up, which he probably would knowing him. Last time he mistook his girlfriend to have a dog, when in fact that was the last girlfriend… He vowed never to make that mistake again.

John thought that maybe he should show Mary he wasn't an idiot or a fool, and that he really did want her to stay with him for as long as she could and there was only one option that came into John's mind at that point, although, it probably wasn't the wisest.

"Mary," he paused, catching his breath and taking her hand from across the table. He looked at her quizzical face for support and whispered three words he knew he would regret later on, "I love you."

Moriarty and Moran watched from the corner sneakily, smirking at John's words.

"Well Moran, you'll be learning one lesson from today." Moriarty said.

"Will I sir?" He said goofily, playing the part perfectly.

"Yes Moran, what's loved is lost."

"Yes boss."

****

**Thanks for reading, and remember to review or pm me if you have any questions! **

**Oh and for anyone who remembers the competition to find the reference for the cookies, the reference was Jam. And the cookie goes to the one of the two people I said couldn't take part, but no-one else got it so I guess I have to make an exception.**

**SherlockedMelon, I am handing you your official internet cookie for 'guessing' the right answer in my reference competition. /shakeshands/**

**And for anyone who wants to know what the 'joke' was, (I promise you it was just spur of the moment, I don't actually think it's good) it was the number of beeps to start with on the phone in the episode- The Great Game.**


	11. Poems

**Hello again,  
Well, okay, 1 review. Where have you guys gone? Don't leave me!  
But thanks Johnsarmylady, for your review. I'll try my hardest to be gentle with John!**

**Keep reading guys. **

**Chapter 11 (The zoo poem is actually by William Thackeray – all credit goes to him and to ****Staci J. Selke**** who's poem I used for John's mourning poem. No copyright intended.)**

"Quite brilliant… Perfect actually…" Moriarty whispered, a smile forming on his slender lips.

"Thank you." Moran said, appreciating this moment of gratification. He was quite pleased with himself for thinking of such a brilliant idea, such an intense plan.

"So outstandingly radiant in every way imaginable…"

Sebastian's eyes dropped down. Of course, his boss was mocking him again.

"Alright, let's not take this too far." He was trying to be reasonable with Jim, but he couldn't be patient for that long when he was bored and agitation was beginning to be an everyday emotion when he was at his flat with his boss.

"Have I ever told you how amazingly brilliant you are?" He paused for effect, "Have I Seb? Have I told you?"

"No." Sebastian replied, trying to be as short as possible with Moriarty to avoid all fights and storm outs.

"Oh," Jim said, looking thoroughly confused for a very small moment. "I suppose it can't be true then." He finished, smirking widely at the sniper who was sitting just opposite on the couch.

Jim knew how to test Sebastian's patience well enough by now and every time was just as amusing as the last. Since he had taken the army man in he had learnt that Moran was only looked like a patient man when he was with his sniper, on a job to kill. He could wait for hours on end when he was at his work and he wouldn't mind a bit if it took all day and night, but when he was 'relaxing' (as he called it) in the comfort of his home he had to try his hardest to be on his best behaviour- his patience was simply no more.

Jim loved it though. He loved the thrill of the fight and he knew exactly how to get one, and it that didn't happen, he loved it even more when Sebastian stormed out making excuses because he had no steam left to fight.

As much as he would like to think though, he knew Moran wasn't scared of him when he wasn't at work or doing special business, that's how he knew the storming out wasn't out of fright of fighting it was just that he couldn't be bothered to do it.

"I think it is." Sebastian replied as simply as possible.

Moriarty smirked, exaggerating it as much as possible. "Getting a bit cocky with ourselves now Seb?"

"No, I'm just stating facts."

"I highly doubt that's what you call a fact." **Five**

"You 'highly doubt' a lot of things."

"That's definitely not a fact." **Four **

"Yes it is." Sebastian retorted.

"Don't get cocky!" Jim sang gleefully. **Three**

"I'm not."

"Aren't you?" **Two**

"No."

"No you aren't or no you are?" **One**

"No I'm not!" Sebastian shouted angrily at the man in front of him that was smiling too much.

**Blast off.**

Moran rolled his eyes; he knew it was too late to pretend he was still calmer than his boss. Damn his patience! Might as well give him what he wants now, he though, and regrettably muttered something about having business to attend to elsewhere and walked out, slamming the door as hard as he could behind him.

Moriarty stopped smiling soon after, he hadn't thought of what would happen after the 'fight' and now he was bored…again. He walked across to his room and collapsed on his bed, trying to think of something fun to do.

What would Sherlock do?

He would deduce things, experiment things, steal body parts from Molly and he tried to flirt with Molly when she tried to resist, all so very boring and ordinary. The only thing mildly exciting about Sherlock's lifestyle was Molly… Weak, little Molly.

Yes, Molly was an excitement. Jim loved getting new toys to play with and Molly was just perfect at the moment as she always tried to resist being played with- it just made it all the more fun for him.

"I should pay mousy Molly a little visit soon." He muttered to himself. He hated misusing his toys, they all deserved to be continuously played with, or they would rot and die off and well, that would be so unfair to them.

Swivelling around to face his desktop area he spotted a whole pad of fresh, untouched paper. He smelt it and stroked it for a moment, feeling the smoothness of the A4 paper. An idea came into his head for just enough time for Jim to take notice of it. After all, you can't kill an idea, can you? Not once it's made a home in your head. He thought about how ordinary he would be if he used it…though, nothing was ordinary when he did it- it was always more interesting. He had decided. He would write a poem.

But what about?

Sherlock? No, he was getting so boring.

John? No, he was too lovey dovey to be human at the moment.

Mary and how they were going to kill her?

Molly? He must admit, at the moment she was the most interesting cause in his life so yes, he would dedicate a poem for his toy.

"To the Lady of the dead,  
who greets it like a friend.  
Your voice too gentle,  
your emotions on the mend…"

Eurgh. No way was he going to this soppy. Not ever. He screwed up the piece of paper and threw it into the plastic blue bin. Score.

He took another piece of paper and ran it down his cheek, still enjoying the smooth front and cutting edge to it- such a beautiful contrast.

"You're a little bit shy- that's my Molly.  
Also quite weak- but that's my Molly.  
I could play with you forever- that's my Molly.  
But it might get a bit bleak- but that's just my Molly."

"Boring." He said tunefully.

Since when did his imagination come to _this_?!

He screwed up that piece too and decided that killing people was so much more exciting than writing poems about toys. And let's not forget, he thought, they're just toys.

Why was he suddenly so emotional?! Why did Molly have to be so emotional?! It was all her fault- it always was! But why did he care about her emotions? Why should he? Because of all the times her emotions had been affected because of him? Well, that was her fault so being so weak and vulnerable. Though, was it right to always blame her? He thought for a moment… Too many questions! He banged his fist on the wooden desk, wishing it was a bit stronger so he could take all his anger out on it, but he saw it shake violently the first time and stopped. What was the point in breaking a useful desk?

"Uh boss? I'm back!" A muffled but very strong voice called out from the living room.

Oh great, just what he needed- his bodyguard mocking him.

He held his head in his hand tightly, causing his fingertips to turn white as frost.

"Boss?" A slightly confused Sebastian called again. It wasn't like his boss to ignore him; he usually just mocked him- that's how their relationship worked. It was always like that. It always had been and it always would be.

He looked around the living area again before searching the rooms. He peered his head through each room before finally reaching the end room- Jim's room. He was quite sure that something was wrong. If Moriarty was in Jim's room then something _had_ to be wrong- it just wasn't right! Before coming to any conclusions though, he decided to check it out first. He crept up to the room slowly an opened the door, just wide enough so he could see through. However what he saw was quite the opposite of the criminal he had just argued with… What he saw was an ordinary, quite tired looking man with bloodshot eyes and pale hands. He wasn't quite sure how to respond to this, he'd never had to deal with anything like it, at least not from his boss.

He decided it would be appropriate to start politely.

"Boss, are you alright?" He asked, trying to soften up his boss a bit so he could weave the information out of him. But now he thought again of it and saw that his boss was probably already to soft at the moment to feel safe with. Sebastian could almost see all the thoughts flying around in his boss' mind but he was still puzzled about the subject of which they related to.

"Boss?" He asked again. If he hadn't been studying Moriarty properly, he wouldn't have seen the slight shake of the head and his fingers grip to his head a little tighter. It didn't remind him at all of Moriarty. Hell, it didn't even remind him of Jim! What it did jog memories of was a little boy at about the age of 7, when he was just starting to understand the world properly. It reminded him of when people go through terrible things, when they try to find light in what's happened, but can't find any. It reminded him of himself, when he was a little boy.

He forgot all about his bodyguard position for that short period of time and went to sit on Jim's bed. He had a feeling he knew he was going to be allowed. He reached over to Moriarty and firmly, but gently, pulled his hands away from his face, leaving white marks on it where they had been pressing on, and dropped them down on his knees. He continued to study Jim, wishing he could have all the answers and Moriarty saw that in his face when he looked at him.

All he did was nod at Sebastian before walking to the bin at the corner of his room and picked up a ball of scrunched up paper. He walked back over and passed it to Sebastian and watched as his sniper unfolded it wearily.

What Sebastian saw almost gave him an instinct to mock his boss but he soon ignored it, knowing this wasn't the right time to get his own back. He read it again and again before finally understanding it completely. "To the Lady of the dead…" He muttered. He hated riddles.

He looked back up at Moriarty before he grasped it. "Molly?" He asked with an excitement that he knew shouldn't have been there, but he couldn't help it, it was always a high when he worked out a riddle.

Moriarty gave him a stone gold glare for about a millisecond before nodding and turning away.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"That's the bell class! Have a good weekend and remember to keep trying out those poems!" Mrs. Morstan called out from the front of the classroom.

The children nodded and replied with agreements that they would. They were such a lively bunch, she thought, soon they'd grow up to get into that awful teenage stage that she hated so much. She was trying to make sure they would be different for the future by not spoiling them too much and making them learn morals, do the set work etc. but she felt that while at the moment they were all so innocent, except from maybe one or two of the boys, they would soon learn about popularity and they'll act upon it…like everyone does.

She filled her rucksack with all the books she had to mark an all her teaching plans but soon realised she had forgotten purse and lunch. On her turning back around she was startled to find that there was a very young, little boy standing in front of her with his hands hiding something behind his back.

"Hello Miss Morstan." He said very politely. Mary knew him well for his manners and genuinely being very well behaved and she wasn't ashamed to say, he was her favourite student.

"Hello David! What can I do for you today?" She asked in the same way, she couldn't help but match him, he had so much charm for a little boy it never failed to astound her.

Slowly, David brought his little hands from behind his back and revealed a white piece of paper with writing scrawled in bright orange chalk. He passed it over to his teacher in a way that made him seem unsure of whether what he was doing was right or not.

"Oh David, this poem is absolutely wonderful! Did you have fun at the zoo?"

"Yes miss, all of that was what I saw! It was really good!" He replied, more confident in himself this time.

"That's always the best way to write a poem, from inspiration. You should keep writing poems, you could even create your own little book for them." Mary suggested. She watched him as he nodded enthusiastically and glanced up to look at the clock, suddenly worried. "Oh David, I'm sorry you better get going, your mum will probably be worried where you are!"

David looked at his Ben 10 watch, which Mary knew he was very proud of, and quickly rushed off, saying his goodbye's very hurriedly.

Mary looked back down at her little present and smiled, she loved students like him, and she knew he'd go far.

She placed David's poem into a little plastic bag with all the extra work that the class were doing, recovered her purse and lunch from her drawer, turned off the lights and made her way out.

As Mary walked down the street absent-mindedly she heard a voice calling out her name. She turned around a bit too fast and dropped all the extra bags she was carrying out of dizziness. She closed her eyes for a second before forgetting about the voice and bending down to get her bags, but she saw someone else was already doing it for her.

"John? What are you doing here?" She asked, puzzled.

"Nice to see you too! You dropped some things and like the gentleman I am, I came to help." He teased.

"No, no, sorry, um, why were you here in the first place?"

"Shopping. Or, trying to… I really don't know why I bother with those machines." He muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Oh yes, that would make sense." Mary contemplated.

"Why? Did you think I was stalking you Mary?" He winked at her, making her blush violently.

"No, no, of course not!" She broke off laughing as John helped her clear all her work back in her bags. He spotted something that stood out above all of the other work- a white piece of A4 paper with orange chalk all over it.

He instinctively read it out loud,

"First I saw the white bear, then I saw the black;  
Then I saw the camel with a hump upon his back;  
Then I saw the grey wolf, with mutton in his maw;  
Then I saw the wombat waddle in the straw;  
Then I saw the elephant a-waving of his trunk;  
Then I saw the monkeys-mercy, how unpleasantly they-smelt!"

He paused for a minute before asking, "When did you go to the zoo?"

Mary laughed and said, "Oh no, that goes way beyond my poetic abilities! One of my star students, David, wrote it. We've been studying poems recently, we've run out of topics to do as they've worked through them so fast and they're not meant to start poems until next year, but I think they're all handling it pretty well!"

"Well that's good news. I used to be poetic myself, but since I've been otherwise occupied I've kind of lost my touch with it." John said, a bit solemnly for Mary's liking.

"I do it every time I feel pain." Mary admitted, "Every time I'm sad, or lonely. You should start doing it again sometime, since you've stopped with your blog, maybe it could be your new thing?" She suggested.

John thought a while, he really had enjoyed poetry when he had done it before, but that was ages ago, he couldn't rhyme things that made sense without a lot of thought over it and if it didn't rhyme, he didn't particularly like it- he liked the rhythm of them.

"Yeah," he said, still thinking about it, "that would help, a lot."

Mary smiled at him, "Good! Now, do you want to come back to mine?"

John looked guiltily at her, "I really would like to come but I've promised Mrs. Hudson I wouldn't be late with her things. She's having a little get-together thing with some of her old friends. Sorry."

"No, no, it's fine, no worries! I hope you have fun with that!" Mary said, a bit flustered at first but she really did mean it.

"I'm sure I can try…" John replied, slouching a bit.

"Well, goodbye then." Mary said awkwardly, not really knowing how to make an exit. Luckily, John had the right idea and pulled her into a quick but not awkward hug then as he released her he said goodbye and backed off back into the shop.

Mary sighed as she picked up all her things, this was going to be another lonely night…A haunted night.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Ah John, finally, you're back! My guests have already arrived! What took you so long?" Mrs Hudson greeted, hurrying him into her living room with a swinging arm motion.

Flustered and a tiny bit annoyed, John replied. "The shopping machines weren't working properly and the assistant took a long time to come over and help with it. Sorry!"

"Shopping machines?" The old landlady squinted her face back, "You know, in my day we just had the shopkeeper and that's it. It's all so big now. Now, let's get these all packed away!"

"Um, okay." John made his way down the hall and pushed the door of 221A open.

As he walked in, he was greeted with lots of strange looking people giving him weird looks, as if he already wasn't wanted there. In fact, it reminded him of when he had visited Mycroft. Uncomfortably, he shifted his weight a bit and nodded at them before looking quickly at Mrs. Hudson to see where she wanted him to put the shopping.

Mrs. Hudson tilted her head towards the tabletop and watched as he almost waddled uncomfortably towards it. She didn't really understand why he was so hesitant about being there but she was getting old and that was why she quickly forgot about it. She turned to face a young man who she'd bumped into accidently and got talking to. She liked the young man, reminding him of Sherlock slightly, but with much better manners. In her apology, she'd asked him if he'd like to come over to her house. Initially, he had looked quite sceptical about it, but halfway through his excuse he was interrupted by Mrs. Hudson, who had not noticed that he obviously had no intention of going. He had stopped as something caught his ear- the address she was telling him…221A Baker Street. He nodded quickly at her and said he would try and make it, and then went on his way.

"Do you want some tea, Sebastian dear? Everyone else has already had a drink." Sebastian had been the last to arrive- but the one who was most on time. All her other guests had arrived unexpectedly early, all afraid of the possibility of being late, so being the kind host she was, she offered them all tea and coffee and tried not to work herself up too much with it.

"Yes, that would be great!" Sebastian replied politely, sitting up and smiling warmly back at Mrs. Hudson.

She made her way to the kettle once again and cocked it slightly towards the cold water tap. The landlady watched as the clear water turned grey when it entered the kettle, mindlessly tapping the handle and nodding her head along to the tune playing in her head. She couldn't name it though; she just knew she'd heard it before an she'd thought it was catchy. It was something about staying alive, but weren't all songs like that? That didn't narrow it down at all!

Oh well, she waited, slumped on one side as the tea boiled and stopped bubbling. She reached out her frail arm and picked up the kettle, pouring into one of the cups she's just taken from the cupboard and placing it back in its little black mat, latching it back on.

"Um, is it okay Mrs. Hudson, if I go? I really have to do things back at the flat." Then he leant down and whispered into her ear, "And, some of these people are giving me very strange looks."

Mrs Hudson laughed and told him not to be so silly but still let him depart. Then she went back to taking the tea to Sebastian, who was waiting patiently, crossed legged, with an opened- but unread- newspaper on his lap.

Gratefully he took the tea from Mrs. Hudson and told her she should sit down and rest her legs for a while. She accepted his 'offer' with thanks and sat down on a red, velvety armchair she had just purchased.

Soon they got talking about all sorts of things, changing the subject quite frequently. It was things about the weather, jobs, role models…and Sherlock and John. That one took up the most time.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

John was sitting at his desk accompanied by a fresh cup of hot tea, staring blankly at a piece of paper. He wasn't even thinking about writing, he was otherwise distracted, but he heard some loud noises from downstairs and that immediately brought him back to his task…writing a poem.

He brought his pencil to the paper, trying not to think too hard about it, but still squinted his eyes in frustration.

He scribbled down a few words on the paper.

-Sherlock.  
-Anger.  
-Hurt.

He felt bad writing anger and hurt down. It just wasn't right! It sounded as if he was putting all the fault on Sherlock, and he didn't like that one bit.

After what seemed like hours of thinking, John finally matched two lines of speech together.

I sit around and wonder,  
and watch the days go by.

That was an okay start, he thought, but he had to add more. He couldn't leave an unfinished melody.

After more crossing outs and worthless jottings, he finally got to a two versed poem, and he liked it.

I sit around and wonder,  
and watch the days go by.  
I look at all the pictures,  
and ask, why did you have to die?

You've always been there for me,  
because you were my best friend,  
and I was always there for you  
until the very end.

He couldn't write any more. What he could do though was slam his pencil down and cry.

And cry he did.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Thanks again, and please review.**


	12. His fault

**Sorry this is late but I didn't want to rush the ending and make it even worse than it already is and also my internet is down so it won't upload. I'm also sorry that I can't write grief to make the audience feel anything like the character but please try to enjoy it.**

**Thanks**

**Chapter 13**

A few quick raps at the door pushed John back into reality.

He grabbed the poem and shoved it into the nearest draw, his conscience taking part in his actions, and went up to open the door. He wasn't expecting anyone to come to his door at this time anyway he thought as he glanced at his watch, but of course, Mrs. Hudson might need him to help clear up again.

He pushed and turned the handle clockwise, opening the door inwards, not expecting the person on the other side at all.

"So you must be John." A husky voice said from behind the door as it started to open. John frowned and looked up, not recognising the voice. He studied the man with a strange impression written across his face. The stranger had a kind expression on his face, but you could tell it wasn't always like that. Before John could make any rash decisions on him a hand was thrust out in front of him making him instinctively flinch away before he realised it was only a kind gesture.

He reached out to shake it, "Yeah, that's me." The stranger detected the hint of confusion in John's voice and laughed.

"Oh yes, sorry, I'm Sebastian Moran. I was kindly invited to the lovely lady's party tonight and she started talking about you. Anyway, she told me I should go up and meet you and I didn't hesitate- that party shouldn't have been classed as party." Sebastian said with a wide, toothy grin.

John laughed at the comment, although he knew he probably shouldn't.

"Oh well I suppose you can come in then. Do you want something to drink?" He offered.

"Do you have any beer?" Sebastian asked.

Of course, that was what a normal men were drinking these days - all he really had was tea…

"No, sorry." He admitted sheepishly.

Another laugh came from Sebastian, "That's alright! I'll have tea then please."

Thank the Lord, John thought. He didn't know why he'd even given a choice to the man; there was nothing but tea in his flat at the moment!

"Oh good, so will I." He replied and gestured towards the sofa, "Take a seat."

"You sound like a therapist! But thanks, I will." Sebastian grinned. John saw that this man was in a very joyful mood today, and it seemed to take quite an effect on him. As soon as Sebastian grinned, John also felt the need to grin- although the toothy, wide-eyed look probably didn't suit him quite as much.

"I've been around then too much; I've started to pick up their annoying habits." John returned as he just finished stirring the tea. He heard the clang of metal as he dropped the spoon into the sink and walked steadily over to the sofa, making sure not to burn himself on the handles again.

Gratefully Sebastian took the cup away from John and brought it too his lips. Before taking his first sip he turned his head in all directions, studying the whole room and asked, "It looks like two people live here. Do you have a roommate?"

John looked at him quizzically. He hadn't expected that question to come into mind.  
Did he have a roommate? Well, no. But was he ready to admit that Sherlock had gone? He didn't know. So he decided to counter-act the question.

"How much has Mrs. Hudson told you?" He queried.

"Just the basics."

"By basics I guess she told you about Sherlock."

"Yes." Sebastian thought over it, "I just wanted to hear it from you."

"Hear what?" John asked, now thoroughly confused about how the conversation was turning out.

"If you thought he was a fraud or not? After all this time, could you not question it?"

John's face turned almost red with anger, however clichéd it was- that's exactly what happened.  
"No. Because I saw him working, I saw him when we first met each other and I saw him deducing strangers! No-one could fake that. Not a single person could manage that!" John paused, calming down a little. "When he talked to me on the phone that day he said that he only managed to 'deduce' me because he looked me up. That may be true, although I doubt it, for what happened the second time we met, but the first time he didn't know I was coming and he still asked, 'Afghanistan or Iraq?' That's my proof that he's real. I don't need any more. Now, if you're finished with that subject, I have work to be doing."

Sebastian watched as John stood up with a frown on his face. Although he was trying to get information out of the blogger, he really hadn't intended to hurt him that way. And he could tell he was hurt, and torn, yes. Sebastian saw all the loose threads of John's life that could probably never be stitched back together again. He didn't know whether he should hate John for being so loyal to Sherlock, or if he should like him, well, because he was a nice enough bloke and he reminded him of an old friend he lost in the army. He eventually decided to give John a chance. After all, Moriarty had shown a soft spot for the 'pet' as well.

"So where were you based, Afghanistan or Iraq?" He asked with some integrity, to force the conversation back.

John replied without thinking, "Afghanistan." Sebastian smiled. He knew he could keep conversing if he wanted to. It was just the way he said things and it was very useful when he was interrogating someone or if he wanted to find out more about something that someone was particularly closed off about. He just worked his way in.

"So was I." He said, smiling even more. Having something in common was always much easier to work with and he was particularly interested in this tired looking man. He hadn't talked like this and actually wanted to keep conversing out of friendship and not out of integrity like normal. He liked the change, it was much nicer.

"Really? I don't remember ever seeing you. What regiment?" John asked, returning Sebastian's broad smile.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Molly packed all the unused equipment away with the most bored expression on her face. Today she had done nothing but eat lunch, and that was hardly interesting. They hardly brought any bodies in anymore what with Sherlock being 'dead' and each day was the same old. Sometimes she got Sherlock to help out like he promised Lestrade, but they were always boring cases he was told about and it bored Molly just as much having to do autopsies on them, but she did like it when Sherlock stayed to watch and see if he was right, although she knew he never doubted it anyway. Anyhow, it was still comforting watching him as he smiled through everything she said and nodding knowingly.

He didn't come today though, he said he was still working on dismantling Moriarty's web and it was even harder than the criminal himself was still alive making him regret every move, or trying to. Sherlock was expecting something big and dangerous, but also very fun and exciting for him. He knew Moriarty would have a plan, he always did, but he didn't know what it was and it was killing him. So until then, he had said, he would just have to keep getting Moriarty to keep killing his own men.

A little knock came from the door and Molly looked up, expecting Greg again. He always came when he knew Molly had no work- she though he pitied her. She focused her eyes on the lady with mousy brown hair and squinted. She didn't recall seeing this girl before, although she was never good with faces, so maybe she had.

She smiled and gestured for the woman to come in just as she packed the last of her equipment away. Looking back at the women she realised she recognised the description of the woman from someone… John! It must have been John. She quickly made a little sketch of the lady in her head and pointed arrows towards each description, matching them up perfectly.

"Mary!" She blurted, "You must be Mary!" The lady walked up quicker to her and shook her hand, delighted.

"And you're Molly!" She said, just as excitedly.

They exchanged some more greetings before Molly realised she didn't know why Mary had come to see her. She had nothing to do with her…

Confused, Molly asked politely, "So what brings you down here?"

"You're friends with John aren't you?" Mary replied, waiting for the nod from Molly to carry on. "Well, there's something I want to tell him, something I've been keeping from him- well, not just him but everyone! I feel I can tell him though, but I'm not sure how to do it. You know John, what should I do?"

Molly stood there astounded for a moment. Never before had someone considered her to be one to give advice. She didn't even consider herself advice worthy- it was silly to think differently.

"How about we go get a cup of coffee?" She suggested knowing she needed time to think over the advice she was going to have to give Mary before she made any rash decisions.

"Yes, that would be great!" Mary agreed, sensing the bewilderment that Molly was feeling.

Mary smiled, looked around once more at the morgue and made her way towards the door, giving Molly some space to sort out her things. She let the door close behind her, trusting it not to make a loud bang when it shut. Leaning against the wall, Mary noticed it was really quite quiet down where Molly worked and she wasn't used to the peace of it all being a teacher for Primary kids. She wondered if Molly liked the eeriness of it all though, the loneliness of the job… She couldn't stand it, not for one day! Mary needed the noises around her to keep her feeling right, loneliness just wasn't an option. All it did was make her feel unnecessary feelings that she'd have to face when she got home anyway. That's why she wanted John around her after her work had finished.  
That's why she needed John.

"Right, I'm done. Do you know any good places then?" Molly asked, trying to converse. She was a socially awkward person and she knew it, but she would at least try for this lady, it was the least she could do.

They walked up to the road together and called a cab, waiting for one to actually decide to stop for them instead of driving past like they were invisible. Apparently they both knew this feeling well enough and didn't let it get to them, in fact, they found it quite funny. It was the cabbies losing the money, not them- well until a cabby decided to come and claim their money… It never did.

"Do you want to see if the cafeteria in the hospital's still open?" Molly asked, smiling. It normally took her around 8 minutes to get a cab to come for her- she found herself completely invisible to everyone.

Mary sighed and rolled her eyes, "Yes, otherwise we'll be there all night!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The two ladies had just sat down in the corner table when a little, plump lady came up to them obviously with intention to talk to them. Molly recognised her, she was really (apart from Greg) the only person who talked to her- but it was just genuine talk and she couldn't tell the lady much anyway because of classified information. The server toddled up to them quite comically and smiled warmly at them both, brushing her hair back out of her face.

"I'm sorry ladies, we've been running low on stock recently and we need it for the people working night-shifts. Would you mind having a cup of coffee or tea instead? I'm really sorry about this."

Mary looked at Molly as if she wasn't comfortable to make the decision for them both.

"Yes Dawn, that's fine with us. We needed somewhere to talk."

Molly smiled up at Dawn and saw her face relax a lot, she knew he dinner lady was under a lot of pressure – they talked about it most days.

"Thank you Molly, that's really helped me"

"Oh don't worry about it."

Dawn bowed her head down to them, her face beaming at them, and turned to leave back into the kitchens.

Molly kept smiling while Dawn walked away- she always loved the way the little lady had a smile on her face through ups and downs. It just made everyone else want to smile with her. She pulled her hair back in front of her as she turned back to Mary and started to fiddle with it.

"So, what did you need again?" She asked a bit dumbly.

Mary sighed, "I wondered if you could give me any advice on this problem I have when I'm alone. It's not so much loneliness but it's more like I'm haunted- not literally of course, I don't believe in that sort of thing but ever since…" She paused and took a deep breath looking up at Molly. "Can I trust you to keep this a secret?"

Molly looked puzzled for a moment, she couldn't quite keep up with the change of conversation, but as soon as she understood she answered with a 'yes' immediately and gave a look of reassurance to Mary.

Mary softened up a bit after that and began to explain her story- quite glad she had found someone to confide in after all these years alone.

"My dad had gone off on an army job somewhere in… Oh, I can't quite remember, I was very young you see- but he had gone and that was all I knew for a while. Occasionally he would write my mum and I three letters- one for me, one for mum and a joint one. A few months later it suddenly stopped and we didn't know why and a few weeks after that my mum got very distraught and told me my dad was just too busy to write letters anymore and I didn't question it. As I said I was very young at the time and just thought what I was told was right. Anyway, when I started living alone and working for the primary school I got some strange anonymous letter with a parcel attached to it and inside that parcel was a giant pearl. I thought it must have been a mistake and questioned it at the police station saying that someone was probably missing it. They checked up on it and confirmed to me that it was definitely sent to me. Of course I was completely puzzled but went off back home trying to forget about the incident and focus on other, more important things. Over the years I got a few more of these parcels, all with a giant pearl inside- in fact, I've made quite a collection!" She stopped feeling she was getting too lost in the story for Molly and smiled apologetically, but Molly, for one of the few times was actually interested in this conversation and nodded for her to continue.

"So my mum decided to come round to mine for a weekend thinking we should spend some time together before the job took over my life so gladly I agreed. I had only really seen my mum on holidays and I was pleased she wanted to come to mine and spend time with me. When she got to mine she commented on how messy it was and began to tidy up- as all mothers do. I was quite annoyed that she was more interested in the cleaning than me, but let it go and made us dinner. When we were sat at the table eating she decided to sort through her bag, trying to find something that I would want to see. She brought out a small envelope with her address on from our first house and told me to open it.  
"I read the letter inside for a long time even though the letter itself contained two sentences of information. I looked at my mum to see if it was some kind of a joke, but she was looking down at her food glumly. I slammed down my fork and shut myself in my room for what must have been a little more than an hour." Mary went through her little bag while Molly looked at her intently. Never before had she been so interested in what a lady of any sort had to say, she realised regrettably that she only really listened to Sherlock when he was ordering her around or Moriarty when he was threatening her. After a little bit of shuffling around Mary handed her a small envelope, just the same as she'd just been describing and told Molly this was why she was so angry at her mum…this was why she felt haunted every night.

And then the little, plump lady came back into view with two hot and steaming cups of coffee.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"So you told the girl you loved her?" Sebastian nearly choked on his second cup of tea at the news. This guy was either really stupid or actually in love, and he thought it to be the latter.

John winced, "Does it really sound so bad?"

"Was it true?"

"Yes!"

"Then no, I guess not, as long as she doesn't think you're lying to get in her pants."

"Seb!" John exclaimed wildly. It was a good point though; maybe she had taken it the wrong way… Sebastian however was quite bewildered.

"You just called me Seb." He stated.

"Oh sorry! I just thought that maybe it was easier than saying Sebastian every time… But Sebastian's fine if you want me to call you that."

Sebastian mused, his bottom lip firmly placed on the golden edged rim of the cup.

"No, it's just that only one person ever called me that…" He stopped, making sure he didn't give any unnecessary details away. "…But he died, nearly a year ago now."

"Oh I'm sorry."

"Stop saying sorry."

"You're making me sorry!"

"I am?" Sebastian grinned, "Well you should stop being influenced by your elders."

"You're younger than me."

"How do you know that?"

"You're more immature." John stated, trying to keep a serious face on.

Sebastian picked up the hardest cushion he could find (which wasn't very hard) and threw it at him, just for the cliché of it all.

"See?" John asked. "You just threw a cushion at me! That's not even a boy thing. Wait a minute… You're not secretly a girl are you?"

Sebastian giggled in his high-pitched voice and exclaimed, "Oh John, you just get me!" He said adding a little squeal on the end for effect.

"Oh gross. Now there are images…too many images!" John groaned clutching his head in fake agony.

"God John, you're so immature." Sebastian said in a now mocking, manly voice.

"How did me being sorry turn into a cushion fight, you revealing yourself as a girl and I being immature?" John asked, genuinely confused.

"You started it." Sebastian said, hoping to provoke another fight. He was always right.

John shook his head and sat up straight as if he was telling a little boy off. "No, no, no, you did."

"I think you did."

"You think wrong!"

"Is this the part where we kiss?" Sebastian asked mockingly, pouting his lips and making little kissy noises at John.

John picked up the cushion and threw it back at Sebastian. "You're weird. Ever been told that?"

"All the time… Now, about you and Mary…"

"You aren't jealous of us are you?" John asked, feeling it was his time to mock Sebastian.

"As if, she probably wants to kill you right now for breaking her heart."

"Wait, are you serious? Do you really think she took it the wrong way?" John asked, this time actually meaning it. Sebastian was suddenly very confused, he thought they were still mocking each other…

"I doubt it. She might be fan-girling over you though." Sebastian grinned at him.

"I doubt that. You don't know her, she's a proper woman. I'm not planning on losing her. I'm planning on marrying her."

This time Sebastian actually did choke on his tea.

"What?"

"I don't want to lose her. I told you that. It's the only way for me to keep her."

"You're serious aren't you…?" Sebastian asked knowing instinctively that this could be very big information for his boss but he was almost certain that now he had met John, well, he wasn't exactly sure if it would be the best idea to tell him about. He frowned subtly, that was what he was here for though, and it was his fault he had gone too far on the job and actually made friends with the detective's roommate. How could he get himself into that?! Now he was going to have to deal with morals and work- and they certainly didn't make a healthy match. A job was a job though and Sebastian knew he would have to suffer the consequences of making friends with John. It was his fault. It was all _his fault._

"Yes, I'm buying the ring tomorrow." John replied, smiling down at his tea. Oblivious to what danger telling Sebastian that could lead him to.

Sebastian put on his worst fake smile hoping John would see through it and kick him out before he could get himself into anymore trouble, but John wasn't paying attention, he was too happy in his own little world.

Just before Sebastian decided it was time to leave and regrettably report back to his boss John turned to him and asked him a little favour.

"Will you help me pick the ring out?"

What could the sniper do but give a little nod and walk out the apartment of 221B as quietly as he could, too lost in his own questions of right and wrong to care anymore.

This was the first time in years, in fact since he had started working for Moriarty that he had found himself in a situation like this. And he hoped it would never come again.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX X

Sherlock smiled to himself while he was walking up the many stairs to reach Molly's small apartment. He had just had another seven of Moriarty's men killed today and he didn't even lay a finger on them. He did realise though it was getting boring and probably even Jim was getting tired of it… He was just waiting for the plan against him- but it was taking so long.

Reaching the final steps that at least he needed to climb, (god forbid all the other people who lived higher than this, they must be tired before they even get out the door to their ordinary little work places) he noticed a faint musky smell wafting from the inside of the apartment. He knew Molly was out with Mary, she had texted him not to try and cook again until she got back. Even if Molly was home, there was no chance she would have come home with a guy, even she knew not to tamper with the impossible.

Of course all these thoughts rushed through Sherlock's mind in less than 2 seconds and he already knew who was waiting for him inside by the time he reached the last step. It was hardly impressive.

He turned the key slowly, trying to make the man inside itch with tension and let the door squeak slowly open- the room being revealed in sections and Sherlock looked through. Then with a big, dramatic swoop in he tried to look shocked and quite frightened of the man who had made himself comfortable on the sofa. While he was putting his little act on he examined the person. He was a little different from the last time Sherlock had seen him. He was much more worn out and he looked like he didn't care at all about Sherlock… That was until Sherlock reminded him of the times before the fall.

"Most people knock."

An Irish voice filled the room. "Most people do, but like you said, I'm not most people." He tweaked his head to the side, feeling a little strain on his neck. "But to save you the trouble, I did knock. You just didn't respond to it, so I, what do they call it… I let myself in."

"Obviously." Sherlock said, knowing that this criminal was only there for business- not for the game.

"So a little birdie tells me you've been killing my men for the past few months."

"You're hardly a little birdie." Sherlock snorted. "You're a vulture."

"A vulture Sherlock?" Moriarty asked quite disappointed. "I wouldn't call myself that. No, I'm more of a golden eagle."

"Enough with the bird talk Moriarty."

"Why does everyone call me that nowadays? It's so terribly dull." Moriarty groaned, "You know, I'm thinking of having it changed to something more powerful, any ideas?"

"Seven. But none of them is why you're here."

"Of course. So why am I here Sherlock?"

"Because you're bored of killing your own men and you want me to know you have something terribly big and tremendous planned for me if I don't stop which by the way, I'm not going to."

"Good Sherlock, very good! I'm impressed! I don't need those weaklings anyway; it's just getting quite boring for my faithful sniper. I know you aren't going to stop anytime soon, and even if you did it wouldn't affect my plan at all."

"Is that all you have to say?" Sherlock asked.

"Are you bored of me already?" Moriarty grinned his grin, which from Sherlock's point of view was more of a snarl. "No, of course not. You just don't like riddles. Did I not tell you to learn to like them? They're kind of my thing."

"Is that all you have to say?" Sherlock repeated.

"No, there is one more thing." Moriarty said while standing up to face Sherlock, trying to ignore the annoying height difference, "Take care of Johnnyboy for me." He placed some gum into Sherlock's hand and closed it for him, it was getting tasteless anyway and it wasn't like he had any fruit to carve at that time. He walked to the side, avoiding touching Sherlock and swung open the door right as Molly was coming up the stairs. Sherlock turned his head to watch the scene, Molly quite shocked and then quite afraid when Moriarty whispered something into her ear. She stumbled onto the hand rail to try and escape from him at least by a few centimetres but he just came closer, doing that thing he did to her to make her feel electrified…static and then watched as her eyes began to roll back and she moaned. At first Sherlock thought this was just the common case of sexual feelings she was having towards the criminal, but he was soon proved wrong when he mouth began to froth. He looked back to Moriarty and saw a little syringe in his hand. Moriarty waved and blew a kiss to Sherlock, the syringe still on show as Sherlock rushed toward the slowly falling Molly.

"Toodles!"

Sherlock watched as the consultant criminal walked back down the stairs whistling the song that he hated so much. What a contrast, he thought, Molly wasn't staying alive.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XX

Sherlock was at a lost. He knew the only reason he couldn't help Molly was because he was a liar…a liar to everyone. If he had come out sooner instead of playing a little game with Moriarty then he could get Molly to a hospital in time and Moriarty knew that. Somehow though Sherlock thought that this wasn't the big plan, no, just a mere distraction for him- but it was a distraction he couldn't ignore.

He looked back at Molly who had fallen unconscious soon after Moriarty had left but now he feared she was slowly drifting away. There was still white stuff frothing at the edge of her mouth but Sherlock could do nothing to stop that apart from constantly wiping her mouth with a tissue. Frustratingly, he knew that if it were anyone else than he could go to Molly to put them in intensive care or wherever they needed to go. She also had enough training to detect the drug but at this moment all she could do was wait to be rescued.

Sherlock's mind was failing him. He couldn't think of the obvious things to do because he was just too shocked. He couldn't think of anything to help the girl who had helped him so much and it stung to think about it. He tried to calm down, think of what he would do if it was just any ordinary person- well not ordinary, he probably wouldn't help them… He didn't know of anyone except John or Mrs. Hudson and what would he do to them. Then he thought back to Moriarty and they way he had exited… Of course! Moriarty had given him his clue by playing that stupid song again! It wasn't just for the effect; it was what he was meant to do with the tune of it.

Quickly, he knelt beside Molly and wiped her mouth again (this time with his sleeve as he'd run out of tissues for her). He checked her airways, her breathing and her circulation and was surprised to find her heart was slowing to a stop, a few more seconds and he would have to perform the necessary movements. Slowly, Molly stopped breathing and her pulse was no more and Sherlock had to act upon it. Sherlock moved his hand up, stopping when he had found the spot and started the process. He placed one hand in line with where it should be and laced the other one over it, he knew this was a long shot, but he also knew Moriarty wanted Molly alive so there had to be a way to keep her like that. He got the chorus of the song in his head and pressed down on Molly's chest to the beat of it, making sure her chest was rising and falling enough to take effect. After he felt enough had been done, he checked her pulse and was glad to find it had come back but it was still too faint to leave her. Letting no feelings get in the way, Sherlock instinctively tilted Molly's head back, pinched her nose and gave her two breaths (one every five seconds) and watched as her chest started rising and falling a little more healthily than before.

Sherlock knelt back up and watched as Molly starting taking in deeper breaths, wanting more oxygen to fill her. He kept hold of her wrist just in case her pulse started getting fainter again- but it never did. Again he thought to Moriarty and how much he wished to have him killed or in fact to do it himself. His mind flashed back again to his exit and he realised Moriarty hadn't left him one clue, but two. The little kiss was the other, oh he had planned it all quite well of course and he had definitely wanted Sherlock to kiss Molly. Thinking of it now, Sherlock had liked being that close to his companion, he liked the feel of it all- her mouth, the way it was beautifully curved and they way her lips weren't too thin at all. For those few seconds, Sherlock wished he hadn't been so cruel to her about her looks or the way she was. He wished she would like to be as close to him as he did to her.  
But he knew he had killed off all her thoughts of that by complaining about everything she did all the time, now she could only think of him as a friend, or maybe not even that anymore. He was just someone she had no choice but to help and now she had to live with him because he had no-where else to go.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Sherlock thought for a while about his situation. He knew he could make things with Molly so much easier if he moved away. Moriarty wouldn't pull any stunts like that unless he was sure Sherlock was close enough to 'save the day'. Molly would be completely safe without him. She didn't need him anymore… She was strong enough to cope by herself- the way she had done before and the way she had before Sherlock had rudely barged in on her lifestyle.

"He said to me, 'Darling, I'm going to give you what you've always wanted… a kiss from the detective. You can thank me later.' That's what he said, if you were wondering." Molly explained shakily as she tried to focus her eyesight.

Sherlock opened his eyes again and jerked his head sharply towards Molly.

"Why would I want to know that?" He asked quizzically.

Molly blinked a few times, still not completely there and looked at him. "I just thought who would be thinking about that. You normally want to know things like that, don't you?"

"I do." He confirmed.

"Then th-that's why I wanted to tell you, before I forgot about it and let you down again." Molly looked at him with a confused expression on her face. What had she got wrong?

"You don't let me down Molly." Sherlock said softly. Why she ever thought that he didn't know and he wasn't going to ask. It wasn't important to him just yet; he just needed to keep Molly conscious.

"Yes I do." She said looking at her shoes with complete disgust. "I contacted Moriarty again and, and I don't give you the right advice or answers or-" Suddenly she couldn't talk anymore. It only took her seconds to realise what was happening…Sherlock was kissing her.

He pulled away for a second when he felt that Molly was responding and felt a bit unsure of what he was meant to do next. This experiment wasn't his normal kind…

"You've never let me down Molly and you never will." Sherlock soothed, moving his fingertips through her hair.

He looked back at her, trying to read her, but all he saw was a girl with closed eyes, taking deep breaths every few seconds.

"Sherlock?" She asked, still with her eyes firmly shut.

"Yes?"

"I feel sick." She gasped and tried to get up very quickly. Her hands though, couldn't find anything but Sherlock to grip on so she had no choice but to hold onto him for support.

To her surprise he got up with her and made sure she got to the bathroom in time, not planning to leave her for a second in case she became unconscious again. He was very relaxed after she'd come out of the bathroom. Of course she'd need to rest for a while but the drug was certainly out of her system and if it happened to still be in there then Moriarty's plan had gone terribly wrong, but he knew that wouldn't be the case.

He guided her to the bedroom and propped up some of her pillows just in case she felt sick again.

Molly turned the covers over to cover her body up, as if she didn't want Sherlock to see her. He understood why, she did look a bit too sickly for his liking at the moment, but that wasn't going to stop him helping her and she should have known it.

"So Moriarty wasn't lying then." Molly mumbled sleepily.

"Moriarty never lies to the people he loves." Sherlock replied.

"He doesn't love people. He can't!" Molly exclaimed, not understandings things as clearly as if she was at a normal state.

"You'd be surprised Molly." Sherlock said, "You'd be very surprised."

He watched Molly frown and rub her head against the pillow as she fell into a deep, well-needed sleep.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You're looking brighter boss."

Sebastian Moran noticed when his boss was in a good mood, even if no-one else could tell. Moriarty always wore a half smile when he was happy, although from anyone else's view, it looked more like a threatening snarl.

"I just got Sherlock to kiss a girl." He smirked back at the sniper.

"Who?" Moran asked. He wasn't expecting something like that. He didn't even think that Moriarty cared about all that.

"Molly."

"Molly? I thought you liked her?" Sebastian knew he shouldn't have said that and got a deathly glare from his boss, warning him not to burst his happy mood. "How then?"

"I drugged her. I trust he was smart enough to give her the necessary treatment."

"You put her into cardiac arrest?"

"It gave me a chance to play my theme tune again." Moriarty smiled.

"Boss, no offence, but you really do need to find a different song. There are plenty more about death, or staying alive or being in limbo…Whatever you want. But that song boss, well, it's just so annoying!"

"Are you telling me what to do Sebastian?" Moriarty asked.

"No." Sebastian sighed, obviously tonight wasn't the time for being friendly. "Of course not."

"Good."

"I'm going to bed now boss- if that's alright with you of course." Sebastian added this to please Moriarty. He liked it best when he was in control of his sniper.

"There's something you're not telling me." Moriarty mused. He didn't even have to look at Sebastian to see the look of horror and shock filling his face before he had a chance to put on an act.

"Oh yes?" He asked, trying to play dumb.

"How did it go with John today?" Moriarty asked, looking up at him as if he knew the answer anyway, he just needed to hear it come out of Sebastian's mouth, to test his loyalty.

Sebastian thought over what he could say to make it not seem as bad as it was going to have to be, but found no other way to get out of it. Whatever Moriarty had planned for him to do, he had brought it on himself by making friends with the supposed 'enemy' or 'toy' in Sherlock's and Moriarty's game. At that same moment he hated Sherlock even more. He was such a selfish bastard to let this happen. Why did he persist to annoy Moriarty until he gave him the perfect plan? Why was it so necessary?

"I hope you're not thinking of lying to me Sebastian…" Moriarty interrupted.

"No, of course not. You'd see right through it anyway sir." This was the time, and this was what he had to do. _His fault._ "John's planning to get engaged to Mary…tomorrow."

"Anything else?" Moriarty asked.

"He wants me to help him pick the ring out in the morning."

Sebastian looked his boss dead in the eye and saw the edges of his mouth turn upwards into a very creepy smile, his eyes glittering with intensity and his fingertips tapping each other in canon.

"You may go. We have a big day ahead of us."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XX

"Oh John!" Mrs Hudson exclaimed, shaking him around and messing up his hair, "This is such good news! I can't believe it really. She's a lovely girl and I'm very glad she was the one you're choosing to marry but well John, it's you. Oh but John, I'm so pleased!" She was almost squeaking with delight by the time she had finished.

John had told Mrs. Hudson about his decision when she had asked how it all went with Sebastian. He had woken up early for the big day ahead of him and was already down at her flat after being asked to help clean the dishes and cups and he was very surprised when he saw all the mess. Didn't these people use the same cup or anything? What was even more puzzling was that the old woman hadn't cleaned it up on the night. John knew how much she hated having mess when she knew she could do something about it, so they must have worn her out pretty bad for her to have left it all night!

The sofa's had been pushed into any random space of the room, not orderly how Mrs. Hudson liked it and plates were found in the most unexpected places. He found them under the sofas, beside the flowerpots, even one or two in the toilets! It really made him wonder who his landlady had for friends and was very glad he hadn't stayed down there.

"I'm glad. I needed your approval on it." John said while rinsing out yet another dirty mug.

"Really? Well, I do approve, very much so in fact." She said in a very matter-of-factly voice, thinking that this was now a very important role in her life.

"Okay, but don't go too far." John cautioned. He knew how excited Mrs. Hudson could get over things; just remember back to her presents for Mary!

"Well, I can do all this washing up now. You better get going and get that ring! Sebastian might be over at any second and you look a mess! Now go get cleaned up- quickly!" She almost pushed John out of her door and pointed to him to get up the stairs with a stern look on her face. That was what he meant by taking it too far, he thought. Everything she said was true though, he had soap all down him and Sebastian should be there any second and he really didn't look like a man who wasn't punctual over everything.

John had already cleaned himself properly this morning so only needed to wash his face and he did so with his green flannel and then dressed into a different pair of jeans and his purple jumper that Sherlock had made his favourite when he had been alive. John really felt sorrow when he thought that Sherlock would miss this, and not know what was happening so he decided to go to the grave after he'd bought the ring and made reservations at the restaurant- the same one where Mary had given him another chance. He was determined to prove to her that giving him that one chance was more than he could have ever wished for. He was going to prove that by asking her to marry him.

Soon enough a military-style knock came from the front door and he heard the familiar creek and friendly voice of Mrs. Hudson as she greeted the ex-military sniper in. John had taken quite an interest with Sebastian's former job and they had discussed it a lot before they had moved on to the most thriving topic of John and Mary.

He opened his flat door, grabbed his coat and ran down stairs urgently, smiling at his new friend as he came into view.

"You ready?" He asked.

The ex-military voice replied, "As ready as a man could be." John didn't notice the faint grit of his teeth when he spoke and smiled. Mrs. Hudson found this to be a joke of quite some hilarity and patted him on his back and smiled her friendliest smile.

"Bye Mrs. Hudson!" John called just as he was shutting the door.

"See you miss." Sebastian called just before the door closed.

Mrs. Hudson called out to them both, "Bye boys!" and locked the door, laughing to herself. John, Sherlock's best friend was going to get engaged! And to Mary! She did love Mary; her sweet and gentle face always brought hope to her that John would finally find complete peace with the world.

"Miss?" John queried mockingly.

Sebastian rolled his eyes, "It seemed polite."

"Yes sir!" John said, standing up straight and saluting Moran.

"Shut up." Sebastian grumbled. "So where are we heading?"

John grinned and pointed to their right, "Oh just down the corner."

Twenty minutes later they arrived at the shop. John was still beaming but Sebastian had taken on glaring at him every time he had used the line 'Oh it's just round this corner'.

"Just down the corner?" He asked, hardly impressed about the walk.

"Could you not handle the exercise?" John asked pitifully.

"Yes I could, I just don't like being lied to." Sebastian said plainly.

"Well we're here now. Do you want to, um, open the door maybe?"

Again, Sebastian couldn't refrain from rolling his eyes and opened up the door. A tinkle of a bell chimed out to tell the shopkeeper that they were there and soon enough a little man came out from the back.

"What can I do for you two gentlemen?" He asked, quite obviously tired.

"Can I look at your engagement rings please?" John asked politely.

"Of course, they're just round here."

The little man took them over to the corner of the shop and took out a shelf of beautifully carved out rings that shone and sparkled in the light. Even the sniper seemed to be impressed by the work, peering down at them for a closer look.

"Just tell me when you're ready and I'll put it in a little box for you at the till." The man said and walked off in the direction of a place to sit down.

John studied the rings for a few minutes before asking his friend his opinion.

"Which one?" He asked, still quite mesmerised by them all.

Sebastian didn't like this question at all. Whichever ring he picked out for the lady was going to be the ring that got her killed and again it would be _his entire fault. _

"I like quite a few of them. It's your choice John." He said, having the effect on John to choose.

"I like this one." John said. Sebastian went to look at the ring that John was pointing at.

It was a gold ring with a silver stem kind of pattern swirling around it making it look like it had been touched with nature… Nature's first green is gold, he remembered. The stud in the middle was one simple but it seemed to make the ring light up with such intensity that it didn't even matter that the gem was small. It was perfect and it was all _his fault._

"It's beautiful." That was all he managed to say to John.

With his approval, John called over to the man and asked how much it was. The price was fairly decent and John went on to buy it. Its box was covered in gold silk and was lined with the same swirly pattern of silver, but this time it was stitching. John put it away safely in his pocket and they walked out of the shop. Now it was time to make the reservations.

When they got back out to the main road Sebastian ran up quickly and called a cab before John could suggest walking to the restaurant which was another few miles up. He held the cab as John caught up with him and smirked as the disappointment formed in his face.

"You didn't think I'd really let you drag me along all that way?" Sebastian asked as John trudged up to the cab.

"What are friends for?" John replied.

Sebastian let John get into the cab first and muttered, "Yeah, friends." Then he got in, shut the door and signalled for the cabbie to go.

John decided that Sebastian could stay in the cab and wait for him to make the reservations and Sebastian hesitantly agreed. He wasn't completely sure to stay there, he really wanted to call a completely different cab- how had he known this was part of his bosses 'plan'…Stalking him.

"Friends? How close did you get that night then Moran?" The Irish voice asked.

Sebastian knew it wasn't the best idea but he decided to ignore the criminal, he didn't want to feel even more guilt than he needed to.

"Do you like him more than me?" Moriarty asked.

"No."

"Really? You two seem pretty tight! You're his new Sherlock you know."

Sebastian wasn't in the mood to get teased. In fact, he wasn't in the mood for anything right now. He wished he hadn't met John, he wished Sherlock wasn't alive and he wished he wasn't the set sniper…The sniper with the bullet to kill Mary.

"I have John's gun, so you'll have to try practising with it- you're probably not used to smaller, classier guns."

"Stop it." Sebastian mumbled.

"What?"

"Stop doing this! I don't want to hate you boss, but at the moment- it's all I can do."

Sebastian pulled at the handle and whisked out of the car before he heard what his boss had to say about his comment.

Despite his efforts, he still hear the word, 'touchy' come from the open windows so he jogged into the restaurant and looked for John.

Of course he liked his boss more than John! His boss had been his only friend- his best friend. His boss had given him a job, a house, a life outside the army. His boss was the best thing that had happened to him but at that moment, his boss was asking him to do the impossible…his boss was asking him to kill his friends soon-to-be fiancée.

"I'm all done! The reservation is at nine tonight. It's the same restaurant that she gave me that final chance in you know- that's why I chose it…because it has so much history in it with us. I hope she remembers that." John said with his same beaming face.

Sebastian walked up to him and gave him a big man-hug and wished him all the best. They walked back to the cab again and turned around to go home.

"Wait!" John said, and signalled for the driver to pull over. "Could you take me to the grave of Sherlock Holmes please?" John knew everyone knew where he was buried; he didn't need to say the place- they just knew.

"The grave? You didn't say-" Sebastian tried to protest as the taxi turned in the other direction.

"I forgot. I just wanted to tell him about this before it happened. He deserves to know." John said quietly.

On the contrary, Sebastian thought, he deserves nothing. He is the reason your girlfriend is getting killed tonight and he is the reason Moriarty wants you dead. If he had just died like he was supposed to then it would all be alright!

"Do you want me to stay in the car with you?" He asked.

"No, I want him to meet you too." John replied.

"Oh." He looked into the front mirror and saw his boss smirk.

After an awkward silence (for Sebastian at least) that seemed to last for hours, they finally arrived at the grave. Again, John got out first but this time Sebastian followed quickly after, slamming the door behind him in his anger.

Sebastian stayed behind John all the time they were walking. He felt it wasn't really his place to be here- he was the enemy. Or was he? In fairness, he didn't want this to happen at all because he liked John. It was Sherlock who was to blame. It was all _his fault. _

Sebastian stared right through the gravestone as John starting talking in his hypnotising voice.

"Sherlock, I know. I know you're not coming back and I know I was an idiot to ever think you could. No-one could, not even your twin. I'm doing better, in fact, that's why I wanted to come and talk to you today which as you know isn't a celebration holiday like Christmas or birthdays or anything like that, but it's special for me." John fumbled in his pockets and took out the beautifully covered box with the ring in, opening it so 'Sherlock' could see.  
"I'm getting engaged tonight Sherlock, to Mary. I've told you about her before, remember, when she gave me that chance at the restaurant? Well, I'm taking her to that same place to ask her the question and if all goes to plan, she'll say yes. I want you to know though, you're my best man at the future wedding…you always will be. I'll save you a spot as well and you can give me a little speech in your head. I know you're brilliant enough to do that for me.  
"I've also found a new friend Sherlock. Don't worry, he would never replace you," he smiled back at Sebastian apologetically and kept talking, "but he's coming quite close. Mrs. Hudson introduced him to me at those god-awful parties she insists on throwing and since then, well, I think he's my best friend. I can trust him Sherlock, you don't need to worry, and he won't hurt me, Mrs. Hudson or Mary- I'm sure of it." John looked for Sebastian and gestured for him to stand by his side. Sebastian frowned but shuffled towards him slowly.  
"He's a great lad Sherlock though a bit cocky at times but I put him right back in his place when he does that anyway!" Sebastian smiled at John's words, "I just want you to know Sherlock that I'm doing okay without you now, I'm doing better with myself and I really think if Mary says yes to me tonight then I'll be at my best again. I wish you would come back though Sherlock, that's my one wish. That's all I'm asking. That's all I'll ever ask of you again." John smiled through his tears and told Sebastian to talk to him.

"Sherlock," he breathed, "I'll take care of John for you. I'm not saying I could ever replace you, but I'll try my best." Sebastian stopped as his eagle eyes detected a movement from the bushes. Quickly he asked John if he could have a few private words and John agreed and started making his way back to the cab slowly. Sebastian twisted his feet impatiently and nearly opened his mouth to say to get John to move faster. He watched as John looked once more at the grave and shut the door of the cab.

"Sherlock," he breathed again- for his own personal effect, "you are the most selfish man I know of. You've broken him…completely and utterly broken him. I thought you claimed to be his best friend? Well do you even know the meaning of that?" He asked angrily into the bushes, "It means that you are always there for him, always! You're not now though, are you? You're not there for him when he's about to get engaged are you?! You know what? You should have just died and done with it, because it's too late for you to come back. What do you think will happen now if you came back, to his relationship with Mary? You will completely sabotage it! It's not even just that Sherlock. Think back to what happened today with Molly. She nearly died because of you! It's all your fault that all of this next part will happen. Can't you just come out now and let me kill you? Wouldn't that be so much easier on all of those people you call friends? You don't need them, sure you live off them, but that's only because you can't be bothered to do anything else. You put your 'friends' in constant danger everyday because you want to play a silly little game with my boss. How do you think they would feel if they knew that Sherlock?" Sebastian turned back to the cab and smiled reassuringly back at John who was still waiting unknowingly with his boss.  
"Sod this. You won't listen because you'll never admit to it being your fault, will you? So if you can't do that, here's the least you can do if you don't already know. You have to be at that restaurant tonight Sherlock, he'll need you to be there, trust me. This is what I hate about my job. I became too bloody close to that man Sherlock! I became friends with him and now I will take the blame for everything that happens to him tonight…everything!" He almost screamed the last word into the bushes but stopped himself for John's sake and substituted for collapsing on his knees and crying. Yes, this murderer, this criminal, this sniper who worked for the biggest criminal of all time, the same one who nearly a year back now would have shot John without a second thought, was crying.

John rushed out the cab and ran back to Sebastian, leading him away from the grave and back to the car. Sebastian wiped his eyes and mouthed back to the bushes, 'will you come?' This time he got a reply, a little nod from the curly-haired man. Yes, he would come. That was all he could do for John and at least he had done it.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was nearing the evening and Sherlock had just dressed up for his date with Molly. Well it wasn't a date, he was just going to put on an act and this was one he thought was suitable for a classy restaurant. Molly knew it was all just a part of this little play and agreed with it for John's sake. She had no clue about what had actually happened at the graveyard and she wasn't sure if she wanted to going by the tone of Sherlock's voice.

It was quarter past eight by the time Molly was ready and Sherlock had kept rushing her through everything. He really didn't understand how it took girls that long to get ready, it just shouldn't be allowed! He took around two minutes!

In this time though he had thought over all of what the sniper had said to him. He still hated him, yes, but he was glad that John was feeling better with him around. He was still quite frustrated at John though. Of all the people he could have picked for a friend, he picked the one who had orders to shoot him on signal a year ago. All that Sebastian had said to him was true, Sherlock thought, and he had deserved the lecture. He had been the one to mess up John so badly, he had been the one to hurt Molly so many times, and he had been the one to restart Moriarty's 'little game' as they called it- but he wasn't sure 'little' was quite the word to use.

"Done!" Molly said excitedly.

Sherlock was still thinking when he saw a slither of Molly's leg step out of the door, shimmering in the light with her tan coloured tights. She had little black heels on that looked velvety all over with a dress to match. It was a classic, little, black dress with a silver buckle at the sides and a little slit at the hem. Molly wore sliver accessories to match the colour of the buckle and maroon coloured lipstick on giving her an accomplished sexy look.

Sherlock was too stunned to talk. He had been through her wardrobe and she had nothing like this in there- most of it was little woolly cardigans with animal patterns on them.

"Not good?" She asked with disappointment showing clear in her voice.

"No," Sherlock mumbled, "it's beautiful. You look…" He caught his breath, "beautiful."

You could tell Molly was shocked at his comment by her gaping mouth expression. All she had expected was really something like 'you've overdone it. It's not a real date.' Or something horrible like that!

"Um, thank you." She said, not knowing what else she could say.

"We should go now, we're probably already late. Seriously Molly? An hour? An hour to put on a dress and some make-up?" He asked.

"It takes a lot to impress you." She retorted.

"You've always impressed me, ever since the day at the coffee machine when you escaped that whole crowd of people. The way you knew they were just ordinary, normal gossips that you didn't want to hang around with and the way that you knew they weren't staying down there for you, but for the food and drinks." Sherlock explained.

"You remembered that?" Molly asked, surprised, "I only remembered it because of you!"

And he only remembered it because of her.

"I remember all sorts of things Molly. Now hurry up, we've got to go!"

The raced down to the road, Molly a little behind because of her heels, but she ended up taking them off anyway. She wasn't going to ruin a nice moment by showing her clumsiness off to Sherlock and tripping down the stairs.

"Come on Molly, get in." Sherlock said, pretending to yawn at her speed.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" She exclaimed. She put her little heels back on and stepped into the cab, feeling a bit like one of James Bond's girlfriends except without the Aston Martin and the champagne and being escorted with a man with a licence to kill… But it was good enough having Sherlock in the cab with her.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"I remember this place." Mary grinned at John, memories of the night lighting up in her mind.

"I was hoping you would."

John was dressed up in a suit that Sebastian had given to him to borrow because apparently his weren't good enough for an occasion like this. He did agree a little with Sebastian- all his suits were shabby and too big for him after all the weight he'd lost when Sherlock departed. Molly was in a dark rusty coloured dress that came down to her knees. It was shaped at the bottom to look a bit like a tulip except not as big as the puffball ones you get now; it was much nicer and flatter. Her straps were rectangular in shape, not flimsy like strappy tops but not too big or chunky- they were just right. She wore matching accessories- a beaded necklace with the same bracelet that matched exactly with the dress in a complimentary way and petal earrings that although clashed with the beige, it still look outstanding.

They were directed to the far end table by a young waitress and were given out menus and tap water. Mary smiled, she loved this place, she loved the feel of it, she could live and die in this place and she'd be happy because at least she had died in a place with such great memories and moments in it. She rolled her eyes a bit, of course she' think of dying at a time like this.

A few minutes later they ordered their food and drinks and were left in peace for what should be the next half an hour. Enough time to tell him, Mary thought.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sherlock and Molly were seated near the happy couple's table, close enough to hear them, but hidden behind a big, tall plant so they had no chance of being spotted. Of course Sebastian had been looking out for them, so he was the only one who knew where they were- he had even kept it from his boss that they were coming, but he was also very surprised that Moriarty hadn't asked why he'd collapsed at the grave.

"Sebastian?" Moriarty called out from there spot.

"Yes boss?"

"Are you sure you can do this?" He asked sincerely.

Puzzled, Sebastian gave a questioning look to his boss. Had he just been given a choice on whether or not Mary would die?

"I'll do it if it's too hard for you." He said.

It was too good to be true. Mary was going to die either way, but could he fire the bullet? He hadn't decided, but they still had a lot of time to waste before the decision had to be made so he didn't reply, he just continued to stare on at John and Mary. He was glad Sherlock had come though, that would be John's only comfort tonight.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"John, I need to tell you something." Mary blurted, before she could bring herself not to.

"Yes?" He asked, surprised by the outburst.

"What I've been keeping from you, well from everyone except Molly-"

"Molly?"

"Yes, I had a girl-to-girl chat with her last night. I needed her advice for tonight."

"Oh, okay then." John said, his frown turning back into his famous smile.

"You remember that time you came back to mine and you were talking about Sherlock?" She asked. John gave a small nod to her. "Do you remember when I told you that I know how it felt?" Again, John nodded- he couldn't forget the torment she had felt that night.

"I remember all of it." He said quietly.

"I want to explain it to you now. I feel it is right to do it now. In fact, it's perfect."

John smiled at her knowingly; he knew she would need all the trust and comfort from him that he could give her.

"When I was much younger my dad went off to war, he was determined to do his country proud. When he went he decided to keep in touch with us and write us letters and occasionally he would call us. Well a few months later that all stopped and mum said that it was just because he was busy and that he would be working for a long time so probably would only write us another letter at Christmas or my birthday- but she also told me not to be too expectant of it. Of course you see I didn't think anything different to what my mum was saying, I…" She gulped, "I didn't realise what had really happened." She looked down at the tablecloth and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Hey," John soothed, lifting her chin up slightly to look at him, "it's alright, you don't have to carry on if it hurts too much."

"No, I want to." She replied determinedly. "So the next bit happened a few weeks ago, you remember that day when you were at mine and you heard that slight hatred when I spoke of my mum cleaning everything?"  
John nodded again.  
"Well it wasn't because I hated her cleaning. It was just a few days before you came over she came for dinner. I wasn't expecting what she had in store for me, I just thought it would be because she missed her daughter and wanted to catch up. Anyway, as we were eating dinner there was kind of an awkward silence because we had nothing else to talk about that we hadn't talked about while she was cleaning. What broke it though, was this letter…"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX X

Molly squeezed Sherlock's hand, she hated this part the most- the letter. She tried to focus her hearing on other things like the two men in black poised in the corner. Finding this quite odd she perked up to catch a bit of their conversation.

"_When do you want me to do it boss?" Sebastian asked plainly._

"_You'll do it?"_

"_I said I would do it didn't I?" He snapped._

"_Okay! But if you don't feel like it then-" _

"_It's my job! It's what I'm paid to do so I'll do it!" _

_Moriarty's face clouded over, he was only trying to make this easier on his friend, "And in your job you should know your place."_

"_Yes," he mumbled, "Sorry boss."_

"_That's better."_

"_When do you want me to do it?" Sebastian repeated._

"_When she says 'yes'." Moriarty said._

"Sherlock!" Molly gasped, squeezing his hand even tighter. "Look!"

"I know Molly." He said, without even glancing in the direction she was gesturing to.

"You're going to let him shoot her?" She questioned, shocked.

Sherlock remained still. He didn't have a plan. He didn't have a plan because Sebastian couldn't tell him what their plan was. Now it was clear to him though and he was stuck. He closed his eyes and went deep into his thoughts, not noticing when Molly had let go.

Quietly, Molly slipped away and took a diversion to the table where the criminals sat.

**Now there were two versions to what happened in the next short space of time:  
John's and Molly's.  
Here is Molly's.**

_Molly. _

Molly crept up towards the table and slid into the seat next to it, her back turned to them so that they didn't pay attention to her. She listened to their constant plan updates and quarrels for around about two minutes which was enough to find out when they were planning exactly to pull the trigger on her friend. She was quite proud of herself for being so clever about this situation, although she didn't let herself think it because she would miss out on urgent updates. She tuned back in to John's conversation with Mary again.

"_I'm sorry Mary," John said stunned as he handed back the letter. He really didn't expect that bombshell and he couldn't help but feel guilty. There he had been talking about Sherlock and all that time he was reminding her of the one she'd loved and lost. He felt really selfish about it._

_Mary could see the anger in John's face. She knew it wasn't directed at her but it was directed at himself- she could tell. She was absolutely torn that she'd made him feel this way. She knew what he was thinking and she disagreed with it all. He didn't know about any of it when he had talked about Sherlock because she had wrongly kept it from him. It was her fault that he was feeling like this now. It was all her fault. _

"_John." She whispered._

"_Will you marry me?" He asked, getting down on one knee beside her and taking out the engagement ring._

_He registered the shock and surprise flooding through her face before she answered._

It was time for Molly to act. She stood up as Sebastian perched the gun subtly on his knee, ready to shoot. His finger was on the trigger when a stunning looking girl stepped in front of him.

"Don't do this." She said, it was almost an order.

Sebastian looked at his boss who looked almost as surprised as him and waited for some orders.  
Moriarty nodded at him quickly to hold fire, he would have to delay the shoot.

"What do you want mouse?" He asked impatiently.

"She's my friend. You can't kill my friend Jim."

"You don't have friends Molly." He said, intending to hurt her.

"She's my friend. She's my only friend." Molly said, keeping to her original statement, ignoring any insults that past her way.

"Well, John's his friend but he's still got a job to do so move over mouse."

"I'm not a mouse." She snapped, "And he has no right to call himself a friend if he's willing to kill."

Sebastian nodded sadly. She was right- he had no right to call himself a friend.

Moriarty looked at his friend who had looked particularly glum all evening but now looked even worse- but he knew this wasn't a time for comfort.

"Yes you are. And as my mouse you should run away back to Sherlock. You don't want to be caught in a trap." He mocked.

"Stop it." She said. "Please don't do it Jim. Whatever you think of me, however horrible it may be and whatever you think of Mary… Just please! Please don't do it." Molly had lost all of her strength and now found herself crying in front of the criminal. He couldn't help but pity her.

"Walk out of the restaurant Molly. I don't want you to watch it." Moriarty decided.

"_Yes." Mary said smiling wildly at the blogger. He was all she wanted._

An overwhelming bang swallowed up the room and Molly to fall over onto Sebastian who was in shock. Moriarty stood up and brushed down his suit and looked ahead, through the dust, he was the only one who had enough guts to look.

"She's dead." He stated. Sebastian knew that his boss didn't have a clue what had just happened either. All he could do was sit and comfort a sobbing Molly who was clutching to his clothes in fear that if she let go then she would return to a horror story. He looked for his gun and found it safely tucked away in his top. He hadn't pulled the trigger. So who did? He closed his eyes and thought of John, his friend. He had just lost the person he cared about most in the world and if this other person hadn't killed the girl then Sebastian was planning on doing it himself. He put his fingers through Molly's hair and sat very still with his boss while everyone else was being rushed out of the restaurant at full speed.

"Molly." A familiar voice said quietly.

The mousy girl looked up hesitantly from Sebastian's chest, not wanting to see the ruins of her friend. She recognised the voice to be Sherlock's and forgot about her hesitance. Instead she jumped up and clutched on to him tighter than she had to Sebastian. She was still crying and she didn't plan on stopping. The only friend she'd had was gone.

Now she was alone in the world again.

And so was John.

_John_

John couldn't help but re-read the shocking letter over and over and over again.

"I'm sorry Mary," John said stunned as he handed back the letter. He really didn't expect that bombshell and he couldn't help but feel guilty. There he had been talking about Sherlock and all that time he was reminding her of the one she'd loved and lost. He felt really selfish about it.

Mary could see the anger in John's face. She knew it wasn't directed at her but it was directed at himself- she could tell. She was absolutely torn that she'd made him feel this way. She knew what he was thinking and she disagreed with it all. He didn't know about any of it when he had talked about Sherlock because she had wrongly kept it from him. It was her fault that he was feeling like this now. It was all her fault.

"John." She whispered.

"Will you marry me?" He asked, getting down on one knee beside her and taking out the engagement ring.

He registered the shock and surprise flooding through her face before she answered.

Was that a good sign? He was starting to doubt it by the look on Mary's face. He looked up at her, widening his eyes, desperate for an answer.

"Yes." Mary said smiling wildly at the blogger. He was all she wanted.

John stood up, registering her answer fully. He couldn't really believe it, he was just so ecstatic. He was engaged. John was settling down and marrying the only girl he could ever dream of marrying and he had just found out her most heart-breaking secret. He couldn't have had better timing. It was perfect.

An overwhelming bang swallowed up the room and John watched on in horror and Mary's face froze in place and her body tumbled helplessly to the ground. He didn't understand, he didn't and he couldn't. He sunk down on his knees and looked on blankly in the direction of the body. This wasn't happening. Not again…not now.

He reached out to touch Mary, to touch his fiancée one more time and wrapped his arms around her as if it hadn't happened- as if she was still alive, just in shock and in need of comfort.

"Sir? We need to clear everyone out as soon as we came. Please come with me." A waiter's voice instructed, but John wasn't going anywhere- not without Mary.

"Sir we need you to come…" The rest of his speech was cut off with police sirens and shouting voices telling everyone to get away. John shut it all off, clutched on to Mary's lifeless body and swore to her he would never leave her.

He felt strong hands tugging him away and explaining to him that he had to get out. He resisted as long as he could until he heard a voice he recognised…it was Lestrade's. He shook his head and looked up at the inspector, asking for a way to explain this wasn't real, that it was all an act. All he got was a pitiful look and a hand being he offered out to him.

John was thinking about going away from the scene but as soon as he saw Mary again he screamed at them all and cried until he couldn't cry anymore.

After all, 'all that's loved is lost.'

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX

**There you go guys, this is what might kill John. There will only be one more chapter of this story- ever. I'm not going to keep writing more of it because it'll just ruin everything that I already have. **

**Thanks to all of you who have reviewed, followed and just read the story an gave me views- it made it all worthwhile. I hope you stay for the next and final chapter. **

**See you next time :)**


	13. Suicidal John

**Hey,**

**First I want to reply to a few reviews, so bear with me. **

**Scottishbluebell- ****I just realised I forgot to update the chapter where Lestrade finds out about Sherlock, which might have caused some confusion about the punches and why Lestrade is suddenly involved. The punching did happen first in that chapter but I've made sure to add some (maybe too much, but you guys seemed hungry for it) in this chapter. Thank you for your advice about Moriarty and I've tried to use that in this last chapter as well :)**

**Sherlockianlife****- I don't know about that yet, I think I'll take a break for a while and regain some of the sleep I've missed out on ;)**

**Dancing Eyes- ****That made me laugh, did you realise Mary just died at all? I would call you heartless but then I don't think anyone cared about her death except the characters and I've loved your reviews all the way through- so thanks :D**

**Breannn…- ****Sorry about the lack of 'n's there :) Thanks and I'm very sorry about that. I've read a lot of stories with him like that as well, which he may be in the actual stories and/or in the series, but I felt, let's manipulate this character a bit and make him different. I didn't know if it was going to work out well, but I'm glad you enjoyed it.**

**Mycatsaninja47- **** So many questions! Well, it was 36 pages, but I don't think that's nearly enough as Harry Potter. Every story has to finish, otherwise it becomes boring and dull for everyone and I didn't want to risk that happening. I've tried to answer most of your questions in this chapter, but some weren't meant to be answered. Seb's still the bodyguard and friend to Moriarty and that will remain his job and I can't say much about Jim's web…It's too secret to tell about. But no, in fairness that wasn't meant to be a big part of the story- merely just something Jim and Sherlock thought over. I was going to ask if you would like an epilogue or something to say what happened in the future- but I won't because, well, I guess it's up to your imagination. I have in my head what happens to them, but I'm leaving it up to the reader to create their own versions. I'm pleased you liked the story though, it's been great writing it :D**

**SherlockedMelon- ****Yes, I know that review wasn't for the last chapter but I felt I had to reply- you do make me laugh :)**

**That's about it. Thanks to everyone who followed, favourite and reviewed, and for those who didn't, well you have one more chance ;D Just kidding, I won't push you guys anymore. **

**It's been great writing this and I've learnt so much from it. I was only writing this to help me with my grammar and all that lark, and I think with the help of you guys, I might be getting a little bit better. I won't be doing more long stories like these for a long time yet, maybe a few one shots to keep the writing going, but I've finished this in time to start revising for year 10…the dreaded GCSE's and that's going to be my main priority in the mean time.**

**Thanks for reading, and enjoy my last chapter.**

**Chapter 14**

Opening his eyes with an aching pain was normal for John but he never thought it would hurt so much. He shut them quickly…the pain was weighing them down too much to bear with.

John hadn't got up out of his bed for nearly a week after the death and he wasn't going to change that routine. What was the point? That was his new motto for life, or death- he didn't really know how to tell the difference anymore.

Watching friends visit him was all he did for his exercise. It was demanding work to try and open his eyes and look at the people who were trying to comfort him or pity him as he liked to call it. There was only one person he spoke some words to, and that was Molly, because he knew Mary trusted her most and that, to him, was all that mattered.

Molly normally visited on her way to work in the morning and talked to him about general things (keeping him updated) unlike everyone else who talked about his fiancée like she was still with them. John knew better than to think that though- he had made that mistake with Sherlock and Molly seemed to understand that more anyone else.

This morning Molly was running a bit late so couldn't stay as long as she would have liked but they still managed to have some conversation in the little time they had. The petite girl had talked to him about life down at the morgue and some of the cases that came with it. She talked about how Sally Donovan had started properly dating Anderson and how Lestrade was in trouble with his boss again for being too distracted during work. That was his wife's fault of course- keeping him on his feet constantly.

John had smiled weakly through some parts but for the most of it his eyelids were closed and his ears were just listening. He didn't block out Molly like he did for Lestrade, Mike an even Mrs. Hudson because all they said to him was 'sorry about everything that's happened'- and he didn't like that.

He couldn't bring himself to step out of bed or even to sit up properly in fear that he would see a tabloid or the news about the shooting. John knew they had found the killer but he didn't want to meet him in case he became a killer of that man himself.

Lestrade had also mentioned that the killer, Peter, had no relationship with Mary and had admitted to shooting the wrong woman. He didn't appreciate this information as much as Greg thought he might though, no, it just made him feel a whole lot worse. It was just his luck that the idiot got the wrong person…just his luck.

John was a cold man now. When he was alone he just stared blankly at the ceiling and froze in his place. When he moved- he creaked. He was stiff and out of everything and he didn't think he ever wanted to come back. The first few days after the tragedy he had been face down on his worn-out pillow and curled up into a little ball, banging his fists and shouting out for Mary. After that though, he just stopped. All he could do was watch and wait for his time to come- but it wasn't coming soon enough.

"John, I'm coming in if that's alright. I have some tea." Mrs. Hudson's voice shook as she spoke. Every morning, afternoon and evening she made him tea and then washed the cups out the next time she went in. Unlike John, she never stopped. She couldn't. However much she wanted to sit in her armchair and just stay put for a while, she knew she couldn't do it because she would never have enough will power to bring herself back up again.

John didn't understand why she kept coming in as he never even touched the cups of tea she gave him, all he ate was a biscuit every morning and night because Molly insisted- or else she'd be round there force-feeding him.

Mrs Hudson's face had changed a bit since the morning. It was still peachy in colour, but somehow, it was un-healthy looking on her. Her eyelids were drooping, the bags were beginning to darken a bit more and her wrinkles had doubled significantly. She was definitely feeling the affect on Mary's departure.

"I'll just put it here then." She said quietly as if she knew John wouldn't drink it but she just felt he needed to hear voices or any sound in fact.

John did hear everything- he couldn't shut the noises out.

He heard the squeak of the door, the light footsteps, the clinking sound of the cup being place on his tabletop, her breathing, his breathing, the cars outside, the sirens, the people outside and… Oh the list could go on. Nothing was ever quiet for him and he was beginning to think it never would be.

He was losing hope for everything.

He was losing hope for himself.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"How is he?" Sherlock asked as he greeted Molly at the morgue. He couldn't stay at the apartment any longer, so he was close to living at the morgue now- but of course he knew that even normal, ordinary people would notice he's still alive if he did that.

Molly had taken up whispering, she knew her voice broke or cracked every time she tried to have a normal conversation. It was rare that she talked to anyone anymore; all social life she had (which was hardly any at all anyway) was gone. She tried talking to Lestrade when he made an effort to come down but it didn't last very long before the tears started flooding her face in their millions. She couldn't even talk to Sherlock any more without crying and he was her only hope of having a conversation… No-one else would understand.

"Worse."

Sherlock nodded, understanding what John was feeling. He knew he was rubbish at emotions but when it came to John, well he just understood.

He was keeping a careful eye on Molly. Whenever she tried to get away from him to be alone to herself and her thoughts, he was always somewhere near her- just for precaution.

Worries had come back to him recently, worries that he had addressed as soon as they came to him the last time. Sherlock remembered when John had first lost someone he was particularly attached to and how he had reacted with it. He was emotional for days, cold and Scrooge-like for the next few and then the day after that he had updated his blog for the last time ever.

Sherlock thought of the suicidal part of John.

"Does he still talk and eat?" He enquired, making sure his friend wasn't starving himself or had gone into a sever state of depression which was unhealthy for anyone but even worse for an ex-army man like John.

"He only talks to me- he ignores everyone else who tries and he eats two biscuits a day- but only because I make him." The quiet voice said.

"Why you?" Sherlock asked, knowing it was an apparently rude question to everyone else who takes everything personally nowadays but it was perfectly reasonable and he knew Molly was used to his outright questions.

"Because of Mary." Molly said.

Sherlock could tell she was trying not to talk too much but he really needed the information from her- especially if she was the only one that John talked to.

"Why?" He pushed on.

"Because Mary trusted me."

He wasn't going to let this go, or he'd just have to upset Molly even more later when she was in an even worse mood than now, so really it was easier on her to work with him at this time.

"Why?" He repeated.

"I don't know." She said, trying to end the conversation there.

"Molly…" Sherlock warned.

"I don't! Honestly! I think it's just because John trusted me a bit." She glared a bit at Sherlock, "But what does it matter now? She's dead, so I guess this is one thing you'll never know. And do you know why she was going to be killed by Moriarty?" She asked, getting into the flow of talking again, "Because you couldn't keep your hands off him! And because you couldn't appear to John sooner and because you didn't…" She broke off, cupping her hands over her mouth as she watched Sherlock's shocked face turn into plain misery. She knew she had gone too far again. She shouldn't be allowed to talk to people actually, she thought. "Oh god Sherlock I didn't mean that. I'm so sorry." She was apologising on the spot because she couldn't bring herself any nearer to the man. She had just said to him that he should have died instead of faking it so she thought he wouldn't want her anywhere near him. She was disgusted by her actions.

"It's alright, you're right." Sherlock said, looking down at a dead that Molly had just finished with. He had thought of that before she'd accidently let it out. Sebastian was the one to really bring him to his senses (however much he hated the man). He should have been the guy on Molly's white marble slabs…he should have died.

"No Sherlock I'm not! Don't say that… Just don't." Molly exclaimed. She was starting to worry that he was thinking about actually killing himself.

"Say what Molly? That I deserve to die? Because I do. I deserve to die." He over-pronounced the last four words to rub it in and didn't even feel guilty when Molly looked like she was about to drown in her own emotions. "If I had just jumped without anyone's help to save me then none of this would have happened. John would have moved on with Mary and Mary wouldn't have died and then everyone could go on living happily thinking that it's important to know if the Earth goes round the Sun or whatever."

"Yes she would." Molly whispered, "Mary would have died anyway because she wasn't meant to be hit."

Sherlock remembered this suddenly. Moriarty had his plans that Molly had temporarily stopped and he would have carried on with them if Mary wasn't already dead by the time he got to her but it wasn't anyone who knew Mary that killed her. It was just some ordinary psycho with bad aim who wanted revenge on his ex-wife.

"Yes."

"So it wasn't your fault." Molly tried to reassure him, taking one step closer to him.

"Yes it was. I started the whole thing with Moriarty and I was the one who didn't want it to end. I liked playing his games and it got addictive. I got a high out of beating him for a while and I also got a high out of knowing that he had something massive in store for me. Something interesting…"

"That's not your fault, that's his." Molly said, again taking one more step. He smiled faintly; she looked as if she was afraid of startling a deer.

"When did you become so persistent? You normally back down by now." Sherlock said, reminding her of her quiet, lonely days.

"I learnt from the best I guess." She said, her steps becoming a bit wider.

"I guess we learn from each other." He said. It was true that he learnt how to deal and live with ordinary people from her. She taught him manners, although he already knew them because of his upbringing but he thought it would be fun to watch her tire herself out with worthless lectures.

She snorted, but began to feel a bit better. "I doubt that. You're still rude and obnoxious."

"Yeah, and your still a little mouse."

On most days, Molly would smile at that comment- but this wasn't most days and she actually hated it. Moriarty called her that just before Mary was killed. She had tried to prove herself to be bigger than a mouse to save Mary…or so she had originally thought. Now though she thought differently. She thought she had only done it to prove herself to her criminal ex. Molly was angry and upset about it; she didn't know how to think. She knew she didn't want Mary dead and that's why she'd stepped up, but did she only not back down because of that nickname? Was she that selfish?

"No I'm not." She replied, and walked out of the morgue swiftly. She wasn't trying to be rude to Sherlock but she just needed time to think- and he couldn't give her that.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Dead!" Moriarty exclaimed, "That was my job!" He looked angrily at Sebastian, "Did you find him?"

"Is that a necessary question? Yes I found him alright, just a normal bloke who wanted revenge on his girlfriend. Pathetic really, but there you go." Sebastian replied, turning over the page of the newspaper loudly.

"Stop that." Jim snapped, "So Mary was cheating?"

"Nope, the killer missed- got the wrong girl." This time he folded the paper up and placed in on the table silently.

"I trust you didn't miss."

"Nope, I hit the right place."

"Which was?"

"The shoulder."

"You tortured him all because he did your job for you?" Moriarty smirked, "I'm impressed."

Sebastian smiled weakly at his boss. It hadn't been just for that, although in any other case that would be the right assumption. When Molly had hugged him at the news of her friend's death he had felt everything…literally, everything. He had felt how much pain was running through her veins, how her tears reflected the guilt and anger and her body rocking violently showed him that she was hurt and distressed. He was going to be the one to do that. In some ways he was glad that the other guy did it, he didn't know if he could after that heart-warming speech she gave- it just wouldn't be right.

"So what next boss?" Sebastian asked, trying to take his mind off the horrors of last night.

"Well now we wait for John's part of the plan to happen. Don't fret, it won't be too long." Moriarty said, already sounding bored. The whole game was based on his actions, but he (or his team) didn't get to do them! Where was the thrill in that? All because of that stupid little girl. He'd get his revenge on her just like that bloke tried to do to his girlfriend- except Molly wasn't his girlfriend, and wasn't going to be.

"Yes, John's part." The sniper had forgotten about that.

"Right, we have more work to do. Drive me to the morgue."

"What have you got to do at the morgue?" Sebastian quizzed.

"Well, we can't let Molly live her unhappy life without Mary, can we? That would be too cruel, even for us." That was his decision- his final decision.

"No." Sebastian answered. He didn't care for Molly that way and he knew her life might actually be better off non-existent if her friend was no more, but he knew his boss cared about her- he was just too angry to see it.

"What did you say Sebastian?" The deathly look was upon Sebastian once more, but this time he wasn't that interested in it.

"Boss, sit back down." Sebastian used his calmest voice to reason with him.

Surprisingly, Moriarty did. He was quite intrigued by Moran's sudden lack of obedience. He would humour him until boredom crossed his mind again.

"What?" He asked, pushing Sebastian for an explanation.

The sniper rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a scrunched up ball of paper. As he was unravelling it, Jim saw a glimpse of the handwriting that was placed upon one side.

"What's that?" He asked, his anger boiling inside him.

Without a word, Sebastian handed him the A5 sized paper and watched as Jim's expression changed back and forth as he read every word. He muttered some of the lines out loud,

"…_Who greets it like a friend…Emotions on the mend..."_

He looked at Sebastian sadly, "That's my Molly."

Sebastian nodded carefully.

"Come on, I'm still waiting for that lift." Moriarty said, smirking at his dumb-founded bodyguard.

…How gullible he was.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A large fist hit the detective right in the nose…and he didn't need to deduce that it would hurt.

"What was that for?" He asked.

Lestrade was fuming at Sherlock, "You left John in the restaurant alone. Alone Sherlock! After his fiancée had been murdered! Don't think I didn't see you lead Molly out. I thought maybe you'd come back for John, reveal yourself after you'd dealt with the girl but you never came back! I waited outside with John, who by the way, isn't alright at all, waiting all that time for you- his friend- to show up. He needed you!"

Sherlock saw the next punch coming and ducked, letting it skim his chin instead- he didn't want to ruin his looks too much.

"I forgot."

"You forgot?! You bloody bastard!" This time the punch landed right under his chin, knocking Sherlock's jaw upwards at quite a force.

Sherlock protested, "Okay, I get it. No need for violence." He took a few moments to rub his jaw before explaining all he had to explain. "This won't sound all that good to you but it's the best I have at the moment, so just listen before you decide to go and throw those punches at me again, okay?"

Greg nodded his head simply.

"It's not time for me to 'reveal' myself as you say to John."

"Not time?! It was time long ago!" Greg shouted, standing up violently out of the chair.

"I haven't finished Greg…" Sherlock muttered.

"Oh, carry on then." The inspector sat back down on the edge of his seat hesitantly.

"If John realises I'm alive now, it may cause a severe case of shock. He may think he's hallucinating and try to kill himself or if he does take the news well then he'll undoubtedly never trust me again and there would be no good in that. I don't think there is a 'right' time for me to ever see John again Greg."

"And you're okay with that?" Lestrade asked, shocked.

"No, of course not Greg! Contrary to popular belief, I am at least half-human."

"Don't make jokes."

"I'm not. I wish I could see and speak to John again, I really do. But it would hurt him more than it would hurt me if he couldn't believe I was there. To see me every single day but not think I'm real. Don't you think that might send him over the edge? It's too dangerous to let him know I'm alive because it's wrong."

"What's wrong?"

"Me being alive is wrong." Sherlock explained. "Because of me, Moriarty nearly killed Molly with drugs, John was nearly shot at a grave, Mary was killed, Moriarty is still planning something big to happen to another person- probably John and Molly couldn't feel safe in her own house."

Lestrade didn't catch on after Sherlock told him Moriarty was alive. "He's alive and contacting you and you haven't caught him? Haven't sent him to us?" There were a few minutes of silence between the two men. "You know what Sherlock? It is your fault. It's your entire fault. Not that you're alive, no, something worse. You're alive and you didn't send the most wanted criminal to us. You didn't have to die- but that was what you should have done and because you were too selfish and wanted him all to yourself no doubt, well, all this has happened."

"I know and I'm sorry…truly sorry." Sherlock said, and for once in his life he meant it.

"That's not enough Sherlock. Not now."

"Then help me for God's sake!" Sherlock snapped.

"How? How can I help you when you've kept all this from me? How can we even trust you anymore?"

"You can't, but you can't let that get in the way." Sherlock tried reasoning but was met by one last punch and watched as Lestrade stormed out.

He glanced around the room and felt a presence behind him, an uncomfortable, awkward presence. Painfully, he turned his head round to meet the eyes of Sally Donavan.

"What do you want?" He moaned. She was (apart from Anderson, who was twice as bad as her because of his sheer stupidity- at least she was slightly smart) the absolute last person he wanted to see.

"It's nice to see you to freak." She said, "So why wasn't I told you were alive?"

"Oh come on Sally, even that's not hard to guess."

"Yes, obviously." Sally turned her back as she walked out the room. Sherlock relaxed as she walked away but then immediately tensed up again when she popped her head back around the door. "I'll talk to him for you, bye freak." She smiled and walked out, her curly hair bobbing around her shoulders as she took each step.

Sherlock was surprised, he hadn't seen that coming. Sally Donavan on his side? He wasn't going to worry about that though. He needed to worry about getting Moriarty.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Are you quite sure about this boss?" Sebastian asked, he was trying everything to get his boss to change his mind- he knew it would be a deep regret afterwards.

"I am certain."

That sent a shiver down his spine. The last time he'd used that phrase, he set a sniper on a Chinese women and that sniper happened to be his best.

"Alright then, but don't say I didn't warn you." Sebastian called, staying behind the wheel and starting the engine again.

"Oh you're not going anywhere Seb, you're staying with me." Moriarty said slyly.

"Why?"

"I can't kill her, I don't have a gun." Moriarty said it as if it was most obvious thing in the world.

"Boss, this isn't right. You like Molly; she's probably the best thing that's happened to you. She's given you something other than Sherlock." The sniper was trying to reason with his boss again, just one last time.

"Yes and just like Sherlock, I'll have to kill her."

"You didn't kill Sherlock though, you knew he'd survive." Sebastian pointed out.

"So I did, but the difference this time is, Molly isn't clever enough to know how to survive. She'll probably be begging for death actually."

Sebastian got out the car, waited for his boss to follow and locked it. He couldn't do anything more- for once, his boss' mind was completely made up.

"You know the way Seb, you did have to spy on her months before I even met her remember?"

Oh yes, the good old days for Seb. He had been assigned a long-term job of finding Moriarty someone really close to Sherlock and had found the perfect option- Molly. She would probably fall for Jim, tell him everything he needed to know, and break up with him as soon as she found out who he was. That plan worked perfectly- until Jim got a bit too attached.

"Yes, I do. So do you though and I think it'll make a more startling impression if you walk in first."

"Good lad Seb, you're learning drama now! I'm very impressed with you."

"Thanks." Moran muttered.

"Okay, wait here for two minutes." Moriarty said while walking up to the receptionist.

He could vaguely hear the conversation between the two- or mainly Jim. The little lady was just swooning over him in the most flirtatious way you could get, only to be horrified when he said, "I'm here to see Molly, but don't tell her, it's a little surprise." He stroked underneath the receptionists chin and gave a little wave for his bodyguard to come with him. As Sebastian walked past the now embarrassed receptionist, he gave a little nod- returning to her some of her dignity.

"They're so boring." Moriarty complained.

"Who are?"

"The girls! No excitement, no calling for security, nothing… Boring."

"That's because you leave them too stunned to do anything." Sebastian said, rolling his eyes.

"Why thank you my good man. How kind."

As they approached the room with Molly in, Sebastian walked slower, making sure to be behind his boss all the way. Moriarty created a shadow at the door for effect but Molly wasn't looking- she was too indulged in her autopsy. He then decided to do a little knock, in a rhythm- short and simple. That brought Molly's attention to the door, but before she could open it, he walked in.

"Afternoon sweetheart." He greeted.

"D-don't come near me." Molly said, shaking as she pulled out what looked like a gun from her lab coat- yes, it was a gun.

This plan was already going wrong, Sebastian though, so walked in with his sniper raised…two against one.

"And you." Molly stammered, "Both of you, stay away!"

She held the gun up, aiming it at Moriarty as he came closer to her, his hands held in a surrendering position.

"Look Seb," he muttered, "our mouse has turned into a lion."

Molly took as many steps back as he was taking forward until she was flat against the wall again with Moriarty.

"Please." She whispered as Moriarty freed the gun from her hand and slid it across the table.

"But still into the whole begging process- how boring. Can't you make anything fun for me anymore Molly?"

"I-I was never fun for you. You always knew what was going to happen next, I couldn't surprise you if I wanted to." She said shamefully.

"Oh but you did darling, you just pointed a gun at my head. I never saw that one coming and neither did Seb here, did you Seb?" Moriarty asked, looking back and nodding for him to join in the fun.

"No, I didn't." He muttered, clearly uncomfortable.

"See Molly?" Moriarty teased.

"You almost killed me…why? If you knew Sherlock would help, then why?" She asked.

"Because I, Molly, am the only person to get him to kiss a girl, and it felt even more rewarding when that girl was you." He paused, "But I also knew he wouldn't take it romantically, and you couldn't help but wanting him even more."

The criminal was teasing Molly like he hadn't teased any girl before- but Seb knew he only did this to Molly, because he knew she was the special one for him. Moriarty was breathing along her neck, stroking her cheek and untangling her hair.

"Don't do that." She pleaded.

"Why ever not?"

"Because I know what happens next this time." She said, trying to feel strong and powerful about it, but couldn't help but sink in deeper in the trance that Moriarty was pulling her into.

"Do you? And what's that little mouse?" He asked.

"You'll… You'll threaten me and leave. Or maybe this time you'll kill me like you said you would the last time. I hate it when you enjoy teasing me and then…"

"Leave you?" Moriarty smirked, "It's all just part of the same game."

"I know." She replied.

"Well little mouse, you're wrong about some parts."

Even Seb looked surprised at that. As far as he'd known, Molly was right about it all. So what had changed now? If he could see his boss' eyes then he'd know, but he couldn't, so he had no clue what was coming. If those eyes had been in Sebastian's view then he would have seen the impossible for Moriarty…

"No, no, I'm sure I got it right." Molly said, mumbling to herself.

"Boss! Security are coming, we've got to go."

"You go, I'll be right there." Moriarty said. Sebastian knew it was a lie but also knew he had to be the one to keep the web going if his boss was caught, so hastily made a dash for it. Molly was still moving her lips when another pair smashed against them, squeezing all the oxygen out of her. She squeezed her eyes closed and placed her hands flat against the wall for balance.

"That's how you were wrong little mouse." He whispered against her ear and then moved his lips back towards hers and kissed her, knowing he didn't have much time left. His plans had changed once again. Moriarty felt Molly kissing him back, finally regaining her sense of focus and he almost laughed in delight but stopped himself in politeness for Molly. He heard the doors wing open and marching footsteps come towards him. He felt Molly stiffen at the sounds and told her that everything was going to be fine. Everything will be how it should be, for now. He trusted Sebastian would already be working his way into prison security.

He felt strong hands pull him away from his girl and turned his head to meet them, finding the invincible Lestrade. He smirked at Molly and rolled his eyes as if to say, 'so this is the big toughie of the group?'

"You are under arrest for suspicion of conspiracy and murder. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you may later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in eviden…" Lestrade said instinctively.

"La de da, yes we know all of that. Will you just get on with the actual arrest now?" Moriarty asked. Even under arrest, he was still influencing them.

"Yes, of course, walk with us." Lestrade ordered, or, tried to.

"Gladly."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The afternoon soon turned into evening and Molly had already decided to check up on John again. She hated herself though, and she didn't think she could even bare to see her reflection again- it disgusted her. She had let the consulting criminal play with her mind and kiss her, she had let him take the gun away from her and she'd let Sebastian get away. All of that had been in her grasp to change but she had been too weak for her own good to know it. Maybe she was just a mouse…a little, tiny mouse.

She packed up her stuff in the usual routine, letting tears fall when she remembered this is how Mary and her were introduced- while Molly was packing away. It was a terrible thing to happen to a lady like Mary. She had just made two big decisions in life, one- to marry John, and two- to find her father and all of that was gone in the space of a second. Molly thought of the kids that she taught, and how attached they must have been to Mary. There was one kid, she remembered, who was special to Mary…his name was David. Molly thought about the poem that he had written for the teacher, she had forgotten to give it back to Mary! She had packed it away in one of her drawers after she'd found it lying on a seat that had been placed in-between where Molly and Mary had sat. She rummaged through them and found the piece of paper with orange writing that she was looking for. She thought it would be best to give it back to David, it would be the memory he has of her. She decided to visit him during a lunch break at his school tomorrow. Now though, it was time to see John.

As per usual, Molly was welcomed in by the kind landlady that always exchanged a few words with her. Mrs. Hudson had recognised her from Sherlock's Christmas party all that time ago and immediately started a warm welcome with her when she had asked to see John. She did the same to this time round as well and had a warm mug of tea ready for Molly up the stairs.

Molly opened John's room a bit and knocked when he looked like he was sleeping.

"John?" She whispered, "Are you awake?"

All Molly saw was a few sharp blinks to prove he was aware of her. It always took time to make him talk to her, there was no on-going process with her visits, it was just the same as before.

She made her way in the door, closing it behind her and sat down in her usual place- on the wooden stool next to his bed. Molly always faced John when she spoke and always took hold of his clasped hands (even if they were too big for her to grasp herself).

Such a lot had happened today with her that she didn't know how to start. She wanted to tell him that it was safe and that Moriarty had been captured- but he thought he was dead anyway so it wouldn't make much of a difference. She thought of the most normal thing that had happened today that could happen to anyone.

"I got kissed." She blurted, without thinking it through properly.

That brought John's eyes swiftly to hers with a questioning look set in them.

"Um, sorry. I was just brainstorming in my head." She said, fumbling around with her fingers.

John turned his eyes back to focus on the ceiling like he usually did- but he normally expected more information as well.

"Do you want me to move on or tell you more about…that." She asked, quite unsure of how to read what he wanted.

When he spoke, he spoke coldly, "How did it happen?" He asked, sending a shiver up Molly's spine.

"Well, it was this guy I liked for a while-"

"Sherlock?" John asked, knowing full well what the answer was.

"No John, not him." Molly said, trying to hide the guilt in her tone.

"Oh." He said, and again put his attention back to the ceiling.

"He's a guy that's new up in the IT department," she said- it was close enough. "We had lunch together once in a while and well, I don't know how it happened, he just kissed me. I guess that's about all there is to that story." She looked up at the ceiling and asked herself, what was so interesting up there?

John didn't respond to that story, so she decided to show the poem instead. She thought it might make him smile a little. She pulled it out of her rucksack and read it out to John slowly. What she didn't expect was the recognition that was forming on John's face while his eyebrows burrowed down deep into his forehead.

"John?" Molly asked warily.

"Where did you get that?" He said, sounding accusing of her. John was sitting up properly now and glaring at her for her mistake.

"I, um, Mary kind of left it when she was, um, talking to me." She stammered on her words, scared of the new John that faced her.

"Why didn't you give it back to her?" He asked, the accusation growing stronger all the time in his voice.

"I…I forgot John, I had other stuff on my mind, I'm sorry?"

"That was one of the most special things that had been given to Mary and you're stealing it?!" It was definitely accusation now.

"No! I was thinking of giving it back to David- you know, the boy you gave it to her!" She exclaimed, but then remembered her manners, "But I'll only do it if that's alright with you John."

John's face was suddenly much calmer and relaxed when she told him, "Yes, David. I'd like to meet him."

"You would?" Molly said- her voice now full of surprise.

"Yes. Would you take me to him when you go and see him?" He asked, still staring at the ceiling.

"Of course John! I have to be there around twelve o'clock so I'll pick you up fifteen minutes before. Is that alright?" Molly asked. She was really glad when John had suggested going out- he needed the air and to meet David would be the best way to do it. She remembered something else that Mrs. Hudson had told her at the door that needed saying before it was too late.

"John, they also want you to organise the funeral." She explained. When she saw his shocked and angered face she immediately told him she could arrange for someone else to do it, but he didn't feel like he should pass on the job. He wanted to arrange it for his fiancée, so with some help he got up, ate his biscuits and started the job. Molly was to be his assistant just in case of a nervous breakdown or anything dangerous like that for John.

After an hour of talking on the phone and setting up all sorts of things, it was arranged.

Mary's funeral was to be on the Friday coming…four days from now.

It was getting late for Molly and she needed to get back for Sherlock. She knew it had been a massive day for him after what happened and he'd probably want her there to gloat about it, so she decided to go home.

She walked down the steps and saw Mrs. Hudson chatting away to someone very familiar to Molly. Sebastian was at 221 Baker Street. Of course, Molly thought, he was still in the clear. Sebastian looked up as he heard footsteps and smiled, thinking it was John but the smile vanished completely when he realised who it really was.

"Molly!" He said through gritted teeth, "How lovely to see you again."

"Nice to see you too Sebastian." Molly said, nodding curtly at him while moving her body and trying to squeeze past him.

"Oh, so you two know each other! How lovely!" Mrs Hudson smiled at them both, "Well Molly, Sebastian's going to see if John's any better, is he any better?"

"Oh yes, lots. I really don't know if it's a great time to see him though," Molly replied and looked knowingly at Mrs. Hudson, "He's just finished arranging her funeral"

"Oh, um, yes, okay then." Mrs Hudson muttered, turning back to Sebastian, "Do you mind dear?"

"Oh no, that's fine. I'll check in tomorrow then?" Sebastian asked.

"Yes, I'm sure he'll be alright to see then." The old lady looked kindly towards the pathologist, "And thank you Molly, no-one else wanted to take on the task of doing it- all too upsetting for them you see."

Molly didn't really see. John was the closest friend Mary had so it had to be worse for him than even her own mother. Mary let him in the most, he knew everything about her when he proposed- it was just cruel to let him do it.

"Yes, of course." She muttered, "See you tomorrow Mrs. Hudson." She said and nodded at Sebastian as she walked out the door.

"Molly, wait up!" A husky voice shouted out before Molly could call a cab. Molly spun and glared at the man calling her name.

"What?" She asked, not wanting to even look at him.

"You forgot your coat, you left it up at John's flat." He said.

"No, I didn't have a coat." Molly retorted. "What do you really want?"

"He was right you know, you have grown stronger…much stronger. He wasn't just teasing you Molly, he meant it."

"He lies. Everything is all a lie with him- I'm not going to fall for your tricks as well."

"Well, that's your loss I suppose. Will you do me a favour though?" Sebastian looked at the glowering face of Molly and smirked before she could say no, "I have John's gun. Will you pretend you've left something and put it back in his drawer?"

"Why do you have it?" Molly asked, surprised.

"It was for the job." Sebastian replied. He didn't want to set the girl off again, so kept it as short as possible.

"The job?" She enquired.

Sebastian shuffled his feet around and looked down, "Mary's job."

"Oh." Molly walked past him, took the gun and rung the bell of 221 Baker Street, giving one more glance to the sniper as she spoke to the landlady.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Get in there!" The guard shouted at the criminal and shoved him into the dull, grey cell.

Moriarty smirked from the cell beside it and was noticed by the angry guard.

"What are you smirking at?" He asked in a patronizing tone for anyone else but Jim.

"You, obviously." Moriarty answered in his loveliest tone, giving the guard some time to think about the meaning of his words. The contrast in it was powerful enough to confuse the brightest men and that's why Moriarty loved using it. He watched the guard sneer at him- trying to regain some power over him (and failing) before walking away, jangling his keys by his side.

"You know, they might be nicer to you if you let them win some conversations." Sherlock said, coming out of the shadows with his trademark coat and scarf.

"They don't even try." Moriarty said, yawning.

"Oh you'd be surprised. They talk about it all the time whenever they can…how to do one over on Mr. Moriarty."

"Sounds catchy." He replied, not impressed at all with their 'efforts'.

"Oh it is, isn't it?" Sherlock agreed, "So-"

"You want to know about Molly don't you?" Moriarty interrupted, smiling slightly.

"That's not what I was going to say." Sherlock muttered.

"Yes you were, don't lie to me dear."

"So what happened to Molly if you're so eager to tell?"

"Not as eager as you are to hear." Jim enjoyed the arguments with Sherlock; they were always so entertaining for him.

"Are you going to tell me then?"

"Of course!" Moriarty said.

"You want me to beg?" Sherlock questioned.

"You can read my mind can't you…?"

"I'm not going to beg." Sherlock said in disgust.

"Yes you are."

Sherlock stood against the wall, tapping his fingers along the ledge…waiting.

Moriarty made himself comfortable on the prison beds, yawning at the ceiling…waiting.

They were both there…waiting.

"Please?" Sherlock asked, giving in to the criminal

"I can't hear you!" Moriarty replied in a sing-song voice.

"Please!" Sherlock shouted back at him, anger clearly showing in his face and tone.

"I kissed her." He said.

"I know that!"

"Then be more specific." He yawned and all his words came out slurred.

"Why did you want to go the morgue to see Molly?"

"To kill her of course!" Moriarty exclaimed.

"And instead you kissed her… That makes perfect sense."

The criminal rolled his eyes, "I've told you before, I'm changeable. Just not very much, and I guess I was in a very changeable mood."

"So you decided to fall in love with her instead of kill her?"

"Don't be absurd! I didn't fall in love with her. I just decided to kiss her. Just like you did in fact… Isn't she a lucky girl?"

"That didn't count. It was protocol."

"It counted for her." Moriarty said, getting quite bored with the conversation now.

Sherlock sensed Moriarty's mood and moved on swiftly. "What did you do when you were down there- apart from kissing her?"

"Well, I scared her by walking in, I nearly got shot at by her, my bodyguard threatened her with his gun to make it even and then I listened to her try and tell the future. That was about it I think." He said, standing up and facing Sherlock through the metal bars that blocked his way. "You have questions."

"Impressive, yes." Sherlock replied, "Molly had a gun? And it's hardly called even- the most dangerous man in the world and the world's best sniper against a pathologist with a gun."

"Don't flatter me Sherlock! Bu don't worry even I was surprised that she had a gun. She has obviously been cautious after Mary's death."

"Obviously. What did you mean by telling the future?"

"She tried to deduce how I would go about my next few actions. She thought I would tease her and leave her like I did before, or even better- kill her."

"But she was wrong." Sherlock said.

"So wrong." Agreed Moriarty.

Sherlock heard the rattling of keys coming round the corner and slinked away back into the shadows, leaving Moriarty to play his little games on the guards.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXX

Molly woke up to the smell of eggs and beans on toast and the sound of the kettle boiling. Sherlock had got home after her in the end and she was too stressed to bother with dinner so she had gone straight to bed- probably leaving Sherlock without dinner too.

Slowly, she got out of bed and picked out some clothes for the day ahead, not really feeling the need to rush- but that was before she heard a deafening ringing shouting in her ears.

"Sherlock!" She moaned, "What did you do?!"

"That cat didn't tell me that breakfast was done!" He explained, thinking it made all great sense.

"We've been through this before Sherlock. You cannot rely on the cat!"

Molly quickly rushed to the hobs and turned it all off, watching as the burned egg shrivelled up in the pan. She was muttering to herself about not letting Sherlock cook ever again unless it was soup or something- but he might even blow that up.

"Oh yes… Sorry, I deleted that." He said. Sherlock had picked up the weekly paper and started to read down the column of all the people who had died that week. He was soon interrupted.

"Sherlock! We need to get out of here!" Molly shouted above all the noise, grabbing her coat and shoes meanwhile.

"Whatever for? It's not like the flat is actually on fire." He said, irritatingly calm in a situation like he was in.

"Yes, but it's the rules and you can't stay in all this smoke- it's bad for you."

She watched Sherlock roll up his sleeve, "Nicotine patches."

"You're useless!" Exasperated, Molly snatched the paper out of his hands and pulled him towards the door, not letting go until she was sure he wouldn't just go back in and sit down again.

"That wasn't called for Molly." He muttered as soon as they were outside with the rest of the renters.

"Wasn't it? I think I just saved your life." She said angrily.

"Hardly." He said, ending the conversation.

Molly wrapped her coat tighter around herself, partly because she was cold and also because she was aware she was one of the only ones still wearing pyjamas.

They waited until they were allowed back in the building again and walked behind everyone else up the stairs. Molly looked at her watch, 8:45, she had to be at the morgue at nine today and she was never going to make it. This was the day that she was allowed to come in a bit later and she was still going to be late for it! She scurried through the crowd and into the flat like a bullet, changing her clothes as fast as she could and hurrying back down again.

"Sorry I'm late," She gasped as she rushed through the doors to the Bart's morgue. There were a whole team of people down there waiting for her- but she only recognised a few of them.

There was DI Lestrade- who had his back up against the wall- Donavan and Anderson. The rest must be another team, she thought.

"Why is that, Miss Hooper?" The woman in front of everyone asked.

"My roommate set the smoke alarm off while trying to cook breakfast." She answered nervously, only getting a smirk from Lestrade and a little laugh from Sally. Sally? Why was Sally laughing? "Who are you?" She asked, "I don't mean to be rude, sorry, I just wondered, if that's alright."

"I am Detective Inspector Langom. I am partnering with DI Lestrade for the investigation of the murder of one girl called Samantha Evans. We have been waiting for an autopsy on her for some while now. We were going to call your manager if you had been five minutes later." She said sternly.

Molly immediately disliked this women, but if she wasn't planning on messing with her. "Well as I said, I was delayed by a fire."

"Well we're glad you're here now, but we do need you to hurry along with this autopsy." The DI replied.

"Okay," Molly said, looking over to the body and then back at all the people, catching the eyes of Greg who immediately understood.

"Right everyone, clear out and let her work in peace." He said, ushering all of them out and winking at Molly before leaving himself. Sally was the last to leave of the group and Molly found the chance to keep her back.

"Sergeant Donavan, will you stay a moment please?" She called, trying to voice herself over the ramble of other people that wouldn't stay quiet.

The look that the sergeant gave her was priceless and Sherlock would have loved it from what she heard. She waited until everyone had gone before she questioned Sally.

"Why did you find my comment funny?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd find that offensive!" Sally replied, a bit taken aback.

"No, no, it's just, do you know who I live with?" Molly asked. She knew it was a big risk, but if Sally didn't know then she wasn't bright enough to guess the right answer. No-one was.

"Yes." She answered, this time smirking.

"Who?"

"The great Sherlock Holmes."

"How did you…?"

"I heard him and Lestrade arguing in the offices- anyone could have caught him out, but it happened to be me." She said, "Don't worry- I'm not going to tell anyone." Rolling her eyes as she saw Molly's look of worry.

"Why wouldn't you? From what I've heard, you hate each other. You gave Lestrade the idea he was a fraud in the first place!" Molly exclaimed.

"That we do, but some things come before feelings. Like, I wanted a big criminal caught as much as Lestrade. Nothing exciting happens anymore."

"Surely, if they have Moriarty locked up then they'll know the whole thing was fake anyway and try and find Sherlock as well?"

"Oh no dear, people are too dumb these days to realise that if that criminal is still alive, then Sherlock could be too." Sally reassured.

"It's going to be all over the news that Sherlock 'died' for no reason, and that he wasn't a fraud… That's going to be worse for John." Molly whispered. Moriarty being captured meant that John had proof that Sherlock died for nothing and lied to him before the fall. She sincerely hoped he wouldn't read about it.

"Already got that covered Molly. None of the papers will hear about it- everyone's sworn to secrecy at the moment. We don't know how long it will last before someone craves the money out of going to reporters but if they do, we have permission to arrest them for some reason or other." The sergeant said, patting Molly's arm, "Now, if that's all…?"

Molly nodded and smiled at the lady politely. She wasn't all that bad, she thought, Sherlock probably just hated her because she tried to prove him wrong all the time.

By the time Molly had finished the autopsy and sent the results up it was nearly time for her to go again and get John. She packed her things up slightly, but since she was coming back she found no point in packing it all away and went through her coat pockets, finding the keys to lock up. What she found was the keys and a rough feeling ball-shaped thing.

Molly pulled it out of her pocket and opened it up. Seeing nothing on the paper she turned to throw it away but glimpsed something on the other side.

_To the Lady of the dead,  
Who greets death like a friend,  
Your voice to gentle,  
Your emotions on the mend._

_You see past all everyday life;  
A room with dead bodies is all you need to suffice.  
When you're alone, it's when you work best;  
but everyone needs someone to share the nest._

_Your weapon is words, when in danger;  
Though it doesn't take much to kill a stranger.  
There are no morals or ethical rights;  
To stop yourself from getting killed that night._

_Sometimes things will be kept from you;  
But open your eyes and see the view.  
What you don't know, will hurt you later;  
But when you do, it will be for the greater._

_Some words that I couldn't say to you,  
are written down here- the paper onto.  
You're not always alone, in this jailhouse;  
I'm always here to help, my little mouse._

There was no name, but it wasn't hard to guess the writer.

Molly read over the poem a couple of times, getting into the feel of it and understanding the hidden meanings. She had never expected Jim to be a poet- that was as unexpected as she could imagine for him. Shaking her head, confused of his reasons, she decided to put it back in her pocket and go and get John- if he was still up for it.

The taxi pulled out in front of Baker Street and Molly quickly double checked the driver, half expecting it to be Moriarty again, but she was disappointed. This time it really was just a genuine cabbie…even Moriarty couldn't be that good at disguising himself.

"Hello Molly!" Mrs Hudson greeted excitedly. "John's just getting his coat. Mind you though, he forgot about this trip today, when I went to wake him he wouldn't answer me until I reminded him. So I don't know if he's actually getting better or if this trip to that David is just to give him more of Mary to hang on to." She concluded. Molly heard the tons of worry in her voice and quickly gave her reassurance to the landlady before hearing John's strange rhythm on the steps- obvious to anyone he had a limp.

"Afternoon Molly," John said blankly, no tone to his voice at all, "Will this take long?"

"Oh John, you don't have to come if you're not up to it." Molly said, feeling guilty for his actions.

"No, I want to go. Will it take long?" He repeated.

"No, not long at all." She replied, "See you soon Mrs. Hudson."

She walked behind John as he unsteadily hobbled out the door towards the road, making sure he didn't trip or fall. He called a cab for them and Mary told the driver where they were heading. They would normally walk for a small distance like this, but John's leg was even worse than before and it wasn't fair on him at all to make him walk it.

"You're here. That's £4.29 please."

Molly handed him the money and helped John out of the car. They walked up to the green gates of the school and saw all the little children playing in the fields and making mounds with the freshly cut grass. John started towards the reception without Molly and she had to rush quickly towards him because although he was limping and had a crutch, her little legs still made her slower than him.

"May I help you?" The receptionist lady asked.

"Can we speak to David please?" Molly asked.

The lady eyed them carefully, "Who are you?"

"His aunt and uncle, we wanted to speak to him about his teacher and we simply couldn't find the time elsewhere so it had to be while we were on our lunch break. We're very concerned for him." Molly lied. She was getting quite outstanding at lying and she couldn't help but feel that Jim would be very proud of her.

"Okay, if you wait here, I'll go and get him." She agreed.

"Thank you, that's very kind."

John stared at Molly warily as the lady walked off to the playground.

"What happens when he doesn't recognise us?"

"I think he's smarter than that." Molly said.

And David was.

The receptionist had told him who they were and if he didn't recognise us to tell her immediately, but he didn't, he just ran up to Molly and gave her a hug.

"Hello auntie!" He said, and then went and hugged John, "Hello Uncle!"

That was enough to let the receptionist stop staring at them and leave them in privacy with the boy.

"Who are you?" He asked as soon as she had gone.

"We're both very close friends of your teacher, Miss. Morstan." Molly explained.

"How do I know you're not lying to me?" He questioned.

Molly brought out the paper with orange writing and showed it to the young boy. "I believe this is yours?"

"Yes, I gave it to miss when we covered poetry. He looks strange though, who's he?" David pointed towards John, who in fairness hadn't said a word and was looking at the boy strangely.

"I'm her ex-fiancée, John Watson." He said, nodding towards the boy in greeting.

"Oh, I'm sorry for your loss." He said politely.

"Would you like this back David?" Molly asked gently.

They watched as David thought about the possibilities that they hadn't thought about and surprised them with his answer.

"No." He replied.

"You don't?"

"I want to put it on her coffin." He paused and looked at John, speaking to him now, "If that's alright with you."

John smiled a proper smile and reached out to the boy, pulling him in for a hug. He felt close to the boy because of how close the boy was to Mary. He knew that he missed his teacher nearly as much as him, but in a more childlike way- not really understanding it.

"I would be honoured if you would do that, and I'm sure Mary would love it too."

The boy smiled and after a few minutes of peaceful silence, John wrote down some things for David's parents- where the funeral was, what date, time etc and soon after the bell went and David rushed back to class with the list flapping at his side.

John turned and smiled and Molly and they walked out of the primary school, taking one last look at all the little children rushing in and lining up for their next classes.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Friday came soon enough for everyone except John.

Molly was busy with an unusual case at the hospital, Sherlock was busy convincing Lestrade that the killer was again the gardener, Jim was busy waiting for Sebastian to get him out of the dump he was living in, Sebastian was busy multi-tasking in a way that no woman could ever wish to do, Mrs. Hudson was busy making tea for John and his visitors and David was busy trying on his first suit with his parents for the funeral.

Friday came soon enough for everyone except John.

"Tea dear?" Mrs Hudson said through the little gap in the door, popping her head round and smiling brightly.

John looked back at her gravely. He had counted the days up to this one, he thought it would never come, but it did- just very slowly.

"How do you do it?" John asked.

Taken aback, Mrs. Hudson replied, "I'm sorry? Do what?"

"Look after me like this? Any time that something bad has happened, Sherlock, Mary, you always smile through it when everyone else is moping around. How?" A horrible thought hit John, maybe his landlady just didn't care. After all, she was just their landlady… "Do you even care?"

"John! Yes of course I care, to say such a thing is just…" Mrs Hudson trailed off, thinking of John's state again and knowing it was a reasonable question for him to ask. "For many years I have watched people mourn for weeks on end. I saw them waste their lives away like they had nothing else to live for, and they did John. They had everything. Families, careers, love, happiness and all of that, but they forgot about it all, stayed inside and covered themselves in blankets upon blankets- wishing they never saw daylight again. Since those days I've felt it's my duty to stop that from happening. Those people had no one looking after them, just friends who were also mourning- which didn't help. So I decided to help and that's what I've carried on doing. A cup of tea and a bright smile is enough to lift anybody's spirit…even you."

John closed his eyes and thought about it. He hadn't realised that she'd helped him as well with her offerings, in fact, sometimes he didn't realise it was her at all.

"Thank you."

Mrs. Hudson smiled and asked him again about the tea, which John gladly agreed to.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Again?" Sebastian muttered to himself, "How many people are stupid enough to go to the newspapers about him and think they'd live?"

Sebastian was sorting through countless piles of paperwork that apparently his boss had 'forgotten' to do. He didn't understand most of it, and those ones he didn't do anything with and the rest were mostly torn up, made into paper aeroplanes and simply left to the side. He hadn't thought Moriarty even needed to do paperwork, but then again that Janus Cars business had obviously meant a lot of it.

Another guy had been reported trying to talk to the press about Moriarty and his web and Sebastian had to go sort it out again before it go too far. The guy had been escorted out by someone who acted as his friend (who was actually just another sniper) and had told the security guards that he was just delirious and hadn't had enough sleep. The sniper had strict orders to kill the man but before he had a chance he was called off on another emergency call- so it was up to Sebastian to go and give this little traitor a treat.

He hid his gun in his biggest inside coat pocket and walked out the apartment. The other guy had left a tracker on the scumbag so he was easy enough for Moran to find him.

"Sebastian! How nice to s-see you." The scruffy haired man called as he approached.

"It won't be," Sebastian said under his breath before replying, "Not so nice to see you."

"You have to understand Sebastian. I didn't mean to, I was just…"

"Yes?" Sebastian asked, growing tired of the man.

"Sleep-deprived… I was uh, hallucinating and things…"

"You're pathetic." Sebastian finished for him. That was the last thing the man was. "Idiot." He mumbled while he dragged the limp body into a dumpster and disposed of it.

He went back to his apartment again and decided it was time to get Moriarty out. It was easy enough to do, but he had work to do beforehand that had a much bigger priority stamp on it. He made the necessary threats and requirements and made his way over to the prison, awaiting his boss was saunter out the door without a care in the world.

"Took your time." The Irish voice called out.

"Well if you were nicer to your workers, they might not try telling on you all the time." Sebastian replied.

Moriarty rolled his eyes, "So predictable aren't they?"

"Definitely." He replied and drove out of the way of the prison, back to their house.

"Actually, take the next turning Seb."

"Another suit again boss?" Sebastian guessed.

"Mary's funeral is today, and I don't have one suitable." Moriarty mused.

"Boss, you have around ten suits- why do you need another one for a funeral of a girl you wanted killed?"

"Seven actually, but that's beside the point. I want something I haven't killed people in. I don't think I'd make a good impression on people if I looked like a murderer."

"Is that you disguise then? Yourself, just not the murderous you?" Sebastian asked.

"Don't be an idiot Sebastian. John would recognise me and then he'll probably want to kill me and that's too tiring for a man like me."

A man like him, Sebastian smirked as he parked up near the tailors.

"Don't be long this time." He said, almost pleading- he really didn't feel like waiting in the hot and stuffy car again.

"Am I ever?" His boss asked and walked into the shop.

"Yes." Sebastian replied when he was gone.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Molly was glaring angrily at the consulting detective who was having trouble deciding if he should go to the funeral or not.

"Okay, just tell me the two sides."

Sherlock glared back at her.

"Well, I could go but then John might see me…"

"Wrong- you can disguise yourself well enough to not be recognised by your own brother." Molly contradicted.

"But then if I didn't go then I would miss out and you would go there alone."

"So then come! And I would have to go alone anyway- no one will ever believe it if I turned up with a boyfriend."

Sherlock nodded, "That's true."

"There's more isn't there…?" Molly observed.

"It's my fault she died, would it really be right?" Sherlock whispered.

"We've been over this too! Sherlock she was going to die anyway! The only way you could have stopped it was to have killed the guy, who I think Moriarty might have killed now anyway, which then would have stopped him aiming at the wrong girl!"

This conversation was always frustrating for Molly. She knew Sherlock felt the blame crashing on him like boulder and she knew anyone else would probably let him feel it because this was the one time that Sherlock actually felt anything quite so…human.

"I'll come, where's the grave going to be?" Sherlock asked, pretending he didn't know the answer.

"John wanted it next to yours." Molly replied anxiously, "Um, do you want me to pick out a suit for you?" Looking at Sherlock, she found that he probably had no intention to move.

"No, I'd rather go looking good. But tell me- which disguise? Moustache with faint beard making me look like some average man who hasn't got much to do in life or kilt and the beard?"

"Not the kilt and beard!" Molly groaned.

"Alright then, average man it is." He sounded disappointed with the result but went into his room to get ready.

Molly had got ready beforehand because she knew Sherlock would get bored with her if she took longer than him. She was only dressed in a simple black dress and cardigan. It was nothing special because she didn't want to stand out, so instead chose a flowing dress that came down to her knees with pump-like shoes- not heels because they would get wedged in the grass and she'd get stuck there. She only had small gold studs and a silky black scarf that she wrapped around her shoulders like a shawl.

"Come on then." Sherlock said, stepping out of the room in his usual suit. His hair was now blonde and straight and his eyes were an alarming shade of green. Molly was startled by his new appearance- he had never worn this before. "Don't you like it?" He said, bored.

"No, it's just… Is that a wig?!"

"Wasn't that much obvious Molly? Now hurry up. You're making us late again."

Again… How did this always manage to happen to her? She was ready first, and still making them late. It wasn't even amusing to her anymore.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

John watched as everyone piled into the church, wearing black out of respect, and muttering a few words to the closed casket. He didn't recognise most of them, but then, he didn't expect to because he hadn't met anyone she knew. The only people he vaguely smiled at were Lestrade and his wife, Molly who had turned up with a blonde-haired man but had split in their different directions soon enough, Mrs. Hudson, David and his parents and what he thought looked a bit like Sebastian with a strange-looking guy sat next to him. Molly caught his eye for a moment and smiled comfortingly at him before the bell rang for everyone to stand up.

Watching the priest talk wasn't all that productive for John. All the time he was speaking John thought of all the memories that he and Mary had shared, then looked to the coffin and thought, 'and they were never going to share any more'. His eyes welled up constantly with salty tears threatening to fall, but he stopped them despite the people beside him patting him and making it all worse.

He had a fairly little speech prepared for when they called him up to speak, but it was enough and anymore and he wouldn't be able to refrain the tears from falling.

"When I met Mary, my whole life changed again. I was living in a rough period because my best friend had committed suicide, but Mary changed that. She changed the way I thought about it, the way I acted about it…everything. She never talked much about Sherlock to make me change but she always listened to me- and that's what did it. I was a happy man for the last few months with her. I was a happy man for the first time in nearly a year. She touched lives of the people that needed it most, she let me in to her problems and I let her into mine. Just a second before she died, she said yes to my question…my question was asking her to be my wife. That's my last memory of her, and it's by far the happiest. Mary is forever my fiancée."

John didn't like his speech but at the time he was writing it, he couldn't bear any of it. After him were two others who made speeches which were all much longer than his- it was her mother and the headmistress at the school. He sat there waiting for the service to be other and after what seemed like hours for him, it was. Now it was time for the procession to the grave.

It wasn't very long to get there and John was walking outside of Molly who was talking to Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson. They tried a number of times to talk to him but eventually they knew that he wasn't going to start anytime soon, so carried on walking towards the grave.

The priest started talking again when everyone was gathered and the coffin was about to be lowered down. David tugged on John's arm.

"When can I do it?" He asked urgently, thinking he'd missed his chance.

"Do you want it in with her or outside on the coffin?"

"With her." David replied, and watched as John walked up to the priest and whispered a few words to him about it. He saw the priest nod slowly and beamed with delight. He went up and said his words of thanks and then out of schedule, the coffin lid was lifted while John went back to where he was standing.

He watched on as David said wedged the poem gently into Mary's hand and letting it rest on her leg.

"Can I say something?" He asked the priest politely.

"Of course my boy." He replied, smiling at him.

David turned around to the crowd and addressed them, "Miss. Morstan was the best teacher in the whole wide world. She taught us all our ABC and how to count up to 100 and back again in record timing! She taught us how to write stories and poems, she taught us the vowel song and let us make our own little rhymes to help us remember. I will always remember her as my favourite teacher, because she always will be. She was lovely to all of us and taught us all the same morals and she never ever favourite anyone despite how horrid they were. She's the greatest teacher in the world and we'll never forget her." He turned to John and smiled- no teeth showing, just in a very sweet way.

"Thanks," he mouthed back to him. David smiled again and ran back to his parents leaving his audience in tears…his words had really taken affect on them all.

John looked towards the coffin again, just as it was being closed but still caught a glimpse of her…of Mary. Mary held him up when he nearly stumbled forward, having watched his eyes as they went over to Mary- she knew what was coming. She waited until nearly everything was finished, the roses being thrown in and the grave stone being put in place before she asked.

"John, do you want to go?"

All he could do was nod at her and she escorted him back to his flat on Baker Street, saying her goodbyes to her friends. Molly decided she wouldn't go back for the after-dinner, she wouldn't fit in anyway, so she thought it was best just to go back home and get some dinner.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 

"Well that wasn't too bad." Sherlock said as Molly opened the door.

"No, it wasn't was it?" She mumbled into a tissue. Sherlock looked up and saw her bloodshot eyes and her watery cheeks. He stood up and walked towards her decisively, startling her. He pulled the teary-eyes girl in for a well needed hug. He realised Molly had to be the only one who hadn't got any sympathy from anyone, but yet had been really close to Mary in the end and she had still helped John through it all.

"I'm sorry Molly," He whispered lightly, hugging her tighter with one hand resting on her head, and one hand rubbing up and down a little patch of her. Molly smiled, this was as close as she was going to get Sherlock to give her, and he was surprisingly good at all the hugging lark.

"For what?"

"For not taking care of you and letting you pull out a gun in the presence of Moriarty."

Molly laughed, "I thought I'd surprise him a bit."

"I can assure you that you did."

"You've talked to him?" She asked.

"Of course, and he told me you tried to kill him." He said pulling away, "You know how dangerous that was right?"

"Dangerous or stupid?" She winced.

"Both." He said, smirking.

"Okay, he didn't tell you anything else, did he?"

"Molly, he told me all of it! I wouldn't go away without all the details and he wouldn't let me leave without telling me." Sherlock laughed.

Molly groaned into his sleeves, "That's private."

"On the contrary, after that meeting I went up to the offices and everyone was talking about it. You weren't very subtle."

That didn't help Molly at all. "That's not funny!"

"I didn't' say it was!" He said, laughing at the look she was giving him, "He also said something else…" His face was back to neutral.

"Yes?"

"He told me that when I gave you CPR that the mouth-to-mouth 'counted' for you." Sherlock said, with a little twinkle in his eyes.

"Counted for what?" She asked, sincerely confused.

"Me kissing you."

"Sherlock!" Frustrated, she knocked her head on his shoulder, wincing in the pain and buried herself there.

"So it's true?"

"That's private!"

"I'll just deduce it then." He said.

"Fine." She shouted.

"Fine." After a few minutes he spoke up again, "Okay Molly but I can't deduce it if you've made a little home in my shoulder. I can't see your face."

Molly smiled, but didn't lift her head up. Sherlock wasn't a romantic, and he never would be, but she enjoyed this- when he was more relaxed.

Sherlock lifted up her chin and studied her face, his answer clear before him. Molly got out her phone from her pocket, feeling it buzz and looked at her new message.

_Are up to a night-shift? Sherlock can come. We have a new case._

_-DI Lestrade._

Molly let out a big sigh of distress. She couldn't say no to it, she didn't really have an option- Greg was just being polite enough to ask her.

"Do you want to?" She asked Sherlock.

"No, too…" He said, his hands flailing in front of him. "Presumptuous."

"Presumptuous? Oh never mind."

_Yes, I'll be there in twenty minutes. Sherlock won't come, sorry if he was needed._

_-Molly H_

A few seconds later the inspector replied,

_No worries there, he would have helped, but I know what he's like. Just tell him not to try and cook whole you're out!"_

_-DI Lestrade_

Molly smiled, "Hey Sherlock, while I'm out Lestrade's warning you not to cook."

He chuckled a bit, "Why did you tell him?"

"Uh, well because I was late for work they had a whole team of people that were getting impatient for me to turn up and to an autopsy, which they could have given to another pathologist… I'm not the only one there. One of the inspectors was getting quite angry with me and asked why I was late, and Lestrade was down there with them." Molly explained, "And, um, I got a reaction from Sergeant Donavan as well. Why didn't you tell me she knew to?"

"Well, when I could have told you, you were off kissing Mr. Moriarty." Sherlock said.

Molly blushed violently and replied black to Lestrade quickly.

_Stubborn as always… I've warned him, don't worry._

_-Molly H_

"Got to go, but seriously, get take away if you're hungry. Don't even make a sandwich. And if we really do need you down there then I'll text you." She said, opening the door.

"You always need me."

She smiled, though a bit puzzled at him, and walked through the door, closing it behind her.

Did he mean, the team always needed him or she always needed him?

She arrived at the morgue ten minutes later than she said because of the traffic, but at least this time it was only Lestrade waiting for her and not whole team of angry people.

"So what needs doing?" Molly asked.

"Just your normal autopsy if you don't mind." Lestrade replied.

"What's so special about this one?"

"Nothing much. Probably just another revenge attack." He said.

"So why couldn't it wait until the morning?!" Molly asked, frustrated.

"Because I couldn't wait until the morning to talk." The smirk was now obvious on Lestrade's face.

"Oh not again! Sherlock's just talked to me about this."

"Well, it's not like I have to ask you, it's just you have two options to choose from, and I thought it would be kinder to try this one first."

"What was the other one?" Molly asked.

"Oh, you get arrested on the charges that you were helping a criminal." Lestrade said, like he said it on a regular basis.

"What do you want to know?" She sighed. She wasn't in the mood to get arrested, so the other option would have to make do.

"Thought so. All I really need to know is how long you've been in contact with him…and why you were caught kissing him."

"You don't need to know the last bit, do you?" Molly didn't mean it as a question- it was more a glare and 'I know what you're up to' tone to her voice.

"No, but I can still arrest you if you don't comply with my requests." He said in a police like tone.

"I've known him about a month after Sherlock 'died' and he kissed me… I don't know why." She stammered.

"Were you very close?" He asked, jotting down now and then.

"Well, close in the meaning that he threatened me, nearly killed me, saved me from a group of thugs and kissed me, yes."

Lestrade chuckled, "So there was no affection between you and him?"

"Why don't you ask him that? I don't know what he was thinking. Are you done yet?" Molly wasn't enjoying this as much as Lestrade was. She hated being interrogated. She was when she was accused of helping Sherlock illegally by giving him body parts, she was accused of knowing things about Moriarty when they found him dead and now she was being interrogated because he'd been found alive and kissing her!

"I think so, yes." Lestrade closed his notepad, "and the dead body doesn't need to be one tonight, you should go home and get some rest. Sorry for interrogating you right after her funeral."

"That's alright," Molly said, thinking that obviously no-one realised Mary and her were close as well.

"Well I have to be off, things to sort out with the wife again." He sighed.

"Okay then, have fun." She called as he shut the door. He gave one last wave out the window and walked down the quiet corridor.

Molly decided she may as well do the autopsy now, instead of giving her another job to do the next day.

Two hours later she eventually packed up the body into a massive draw and locked up the room as usual. She nodded goodbye to the receptionist like she normally did, but instead of getting ignored, she got glared at. As soon as she reached the exit, she turned her head back one more time to the lady and saw she was still glaring at her. She saw movement on the stairs and quickly looked up at them to see someone (who although she could only see from the legs down because he was already disappearing to another level) who she thought was very familiar. The person was wearing normal blue jeans- not a doctor then, and had a very obvious limp… John.

Molly rushed up to the receptionist and asked if anyone had just signed in with her, but the receptionist wouldn't budge her glare to tell her, just said she wasn't authorised to know. Molly was though, and the lady knew it, she just wanted to waste her time with proof of ID. Molly dug through her bag and brought it out to show her. The receptionist went through the names very carefully, reading them out as slowly as she could.

"No-one called John Watson?"

Molly watched her check again, and a few minutes later got the wrong answer. How could it not be John? Then again, this was a hospital, full of people with limps- it could have been anyone. Molly wasn't taking any chances though, so she rushed up the stairs, stumbling as she went. She bent over as she got to the top, catching her breath. She looked up to see a grey-haired man open a door…the door the roof.

Molly stared for a moment, unsure of what was going on and followed him up there, texting a few words to Sherlock.

_Bart_'s _rooftop. Please come...It's John._

_-Molly x_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXX

Sherlock read the message and immediately texted his brother.

_Will need some help with the traffic. Make sure all lights are green for me. On my way to Bart's._

-S.H

The reply he got was almost enough to wish his brother dead.

_Why should I Sherlock?_

_-M.H_

_It's John. He's on the rooftop. I need to get to him. Quick._

_-S.H_

_Done._

_-M.H_

Sherlock grabbed his scarf and legged it all the way down the stairs and jumping into a cab.

"Hey!" A old-looking man shouted.

"Police." Sherlock showed the man he'd just stolen a cab ride from his also stolen ID card. "Bart's hospital and hurry!" The cabbie sensed the urgency and zoomed through all the traffic lights, not quite believing his luck when he got no red lights.

"There you go, that will be…"

Sherlock just threw an envelope of money towards him and bolted it out the door and up all the stairs. He got to the door and opened it quietly, watching as Molly tried to talk to John.

"John, I can help you." Molly was speaking to him like a child. She knew it wasn't time to talk about facts to him. She just had to get him off that rooftop.

"No-one can help me." John said. He wasn't turning round…he was just balancing on the edge.

"I can if you let me."

"What's the point? I'm cursed. Sherlock was my best friend- he died. Mary was my fiancée- she died. When Sherlock died, I was nothing. Mary was the only one who made me back to who I was, except, I wasn't was I? I was back, but with Mary. Mary was all I had to keep me here and she's gone." He shook his head, "So I'm going to."

"Let me help!" Molly shouted, tears smudging her mascara.

"No-one can help me Molly." John said, decisively. He stretched on foot out, wobbling on the edge now. Sherlock was coming up behind him as quietly as possible- not noticing Molly anymore. He stood quietly beside John, not making a sound, just watching every move John made. John hadn't noticed him- he was just staring at the apartments in front of him.

"I can."

John blinked wildly and looked at Sherlock. Hallucinations…it was all a hallucination. John looked down and saw the street was completely empty. Perfect. He leant forward, spreading his arms out to the side and elevated his feet of the wall. Molly shouted and John started…started to fall.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Molly rang the bell of the looming house in front of her, beginning to wonder about her reasons for coming… She had none. The door clicked and opened and the familiar face of the sniper faced her.

"Molly?" Sebastian asked, surprise ringing in his voice.

"I…I need to speak to Jim please."

"Why?"

"Why do I have to tell you?" Molly asked.

"Standard procedure." He replied.

"I want to talk to him about John."

"Oh? Well, come in then." Sebastian smiled and tried to take it off, but that was made impossible when she shook him off violently. "All right then…" He said, "I'll just go get him."

Molly watched as he walked off, looking quite offended. She stood awkwardly as she waited for Moriarty.

"Molly please, sit down." The smooth voice came through a doorway that Molly hadn't even noticed. Hesitating and shaking, she found the nearest chair and sat down on it- avoiding the comfort of the sofas that were centred in the middle of the room. "What do I owe this pleasure?"

"Your- your big plan, it was about John wasn't it?"

Moriarty looked at her blankly, after all his efforts, did she only just realise that?

"Not just killing her, but-"

"Killing who Molly? I kill an awful lot of people." Moriarty smiled unpleasantly.

"Killing," Molly closed her eyes gently, "Killing Mary." She found it a lot harder to admit her friend's death in front of the man who'd thought to kill her first.

"Oh yes, that one. Please, carry on."

"It wasn't about killing Mary was it? It was about getting John to kill himself."  
There we go, he thought, she was finally getting the hang on how he worked…

"Because…?"

"Because that way, it's less predictable for Sherlock…for anyone." She finished.

"Just so." Moriarty looked at her frightened face and smiled, "Did he jump then?"

"Yes,"

"You're not telling me something Molly…"

"Sherlock caught him as soon as her left the edge." She whispered.

Moriarty rolled his eyes, "Why are you upset about that?" He asked.

"Because your plan failed, which means this time, you'll kill him yourself- or with Moran… You're going to make sure he dies this time"

"Am I?"

"No…" Molly said, shaking her head

"No?"

"I'll stop you." She concluded.

"Oh will you?"

"I can try…"

"You could, but I'm not going to." Moriarty said, smirking at Molly's confused expression. "See Molly, I never had any intention to kill John. I'd make him do it himself, yes, but I wouldn't kill him. That would be… boring."

Molly stared at him, trying to work out if he was lying or not. She stood up and walked towards the door, unlocked it and opened it. Moriarty's eyes followed her all the way, following his little mouse.

"I got your poem." She said very quietly before she tried to make her way out the door. She got no reply from the criminal. He just walked up to her and blocked her exit.

"You got it, but did you really…get it?" He asked.

"I…yes, I did." She looked up to him, "It was beautiful."

"I know. I made it." He smirked at her and she felt his warm breath against her cheek. He leant down to reach Molly's height and met her lips. He held her there for ten to fifteen seconds before breaking away and pulling her closer. He whispered four words in her ear, "That was my note."

Molly pushed him away, "No!" He just looked at her sadly. "You- you can't go, because you said, you said in the poem, 'you'd always be here to help.'

"You don't need help. You have Sherlock." He told her.

"No, I don't. I can't talk to him, he won't understand- he's Sherlock for God's sake!" She breathed heavily, "No, I need you."

"Prove it."

So she did. It wasn't the perfect proof and Molly really had no idea how to go about it because although she'd been kissed, she'd never kissed anyone on her own accord.

She squeezed his hands pleadingly, "Please don't go Jim." She whispered into his chest.

She never got the reply, but she knew she'd just saved a man with what he called her weapon… words.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXX

"How is he?" Molly asked, putting a hand over John's head.

Sherlock was pacing the flat while Molly watched over John.

"You tell me, you're the doctor." He said rudely.

Molly pressed her palm in different places of his forehead, "You know I've only just get here Sherlock," she sighed, "How's he been doing with you?"

"I don't know, I wasn't looking."

"Then what were you doing?" Molly asked.

"Thinking!"

"Sherlock! He's your friend."

"I'm no friend to him though am I? He saw me and jumped. I made him jump."

"No, he had a fright! Would you believe it if a dead person came to you when you at the verge of committing suicide?"

"Yes." He stated.

"No, you would be reminded that as soon as you jump, then there's a chance of being there with you again- but up there!" She stuck a finger out to the sky.

"You're wrong."

"No Sherlock, I'm not. Stay here with John and this time look after him!" She exclaimed.

"Where are you going?" He shouted back.

"To get some air!" She said as the door slammed.

Sherlock looked at John and did a double-take. John was rubbing his head and leaning against the sofa.

"John?"

He watched as John tried to stand up and rushed to help him when he stumbled. He could see it in John's eyes of what was going to happen, but he didn't duck, wince or blink. The shaky fist hit him with a feeble force, but it was a good effort for a man in his current condition.

John threw his arms around the detective and whispered one powerful word. Not powerful in meaning, but in tone. There was distrust, loss, hurt, anger but also love- and not the love you're all wishing for, but a love for a brother…a best friend.

"Sherlock."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Catch. You. Later.**


End file.
